All Through the Night
by Zanne Chaos
Summary: (COMPLETE! 5-21-2003) Sequel to 'The Illusion of Truth'. Valgaav is gone; is Filia now in less danger...or more?
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMERS:**The Slayers? Not mine. Le Sigh. The Slayers are copyrighted 1989-2002 Hajime Kanzaka, Rui Araizumi, Kadokawa Shoten, TV TOKYO, SOFTX, Marubeni. No money made. Fanfiction only, written because I'm nuts about the characters, or maybe just plain nuts. A character which has a brief cameo in Chapter 1, Arianna, belongs to Unoriginality.   
  
**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** This is the sequel to The Illusion of Truth. I will say right now, this is not going to be a fun ride. The middle of a trilogy is usually the darkest, after all, and I didn't name this "All Through the Night" for no reason. Keep your hankies ready. And a final note, I really DO adore Xellos and Filia as a couple! But he's such an excellent villain too. And remember, folks, feedback's to a writer what negative emotions are to a Mazoku; yummy and vastly appreciated.   
~ Zanne  
  


**All Through the Night**  
_by Zanne Chaos_  
  
  
**Chapter One**

  
  
There weren't many times in his life when Jillas had considered something to be beyond repair, or a situation to be completely devoid of hope. He was usually able to fix things even after everyone else had written it off as being good only for the scrap heap, and then there was that little phrase he recalled his mother quoting from time to time.  
  
_Wherever there is life, there is always hope._  
  
In a twist of bitter irony, he could hear her voice in his memory reciting that, long after the screams had died. He had laughed then, not from humor, but from bitter despair and hatred of such a trite and meaningless cluster of words.  
  
Everyone had been dead. The village was in flames. Bodies lay strewn about, some of which he could identify. He was pinned to a post by arrows which had all somehow missed vital organs. There was no way to get free, and soon, the flames would reach him. Soon, he'd be with everyone else.  
  
_Wherever there is life, there is always hope._  
  
At first, Jillas had thought he was seeing things, going mad from pain and smoke. A silhouetted figure drew closer, and then, he thought it might have been Death itself in the flesh.  
  
The reality had not been anything quite so dramatic. But it wasn't until some months later, as he gradually recovered from his injuries under Lord Valgaav's care, that the words came back.  
  
_Wherever there is life, there is always hope._  
  
For the first time, the little foxman believed in that phrase wholeheartedly. Even when his world turned upside down again, he didn't give up the hope that somehow, things would be all right once more. That hope saw materiality yet again with the discovery that Lord Valgaav had somehow survived.  
  
He wasn't quite ready to give up on that hope, not after it had been realized several times over. But it was hard to hold on.  
  
He finished wiping fingerprints off a lacquered black vase Filia had made, and carefully set it back down on the shelf. Before he picked up the next, he glanced over his shoulder to the violet-haired man who stood behind the counter as he had every day that week, a far too cheerful smile on his face.   
  
Oh, yes. It was very hard to hold on.  
  
It was hard to believe that somehow, things would work themselves out with that Mazoku here. It was hard to believe when he could hear Filia sobbing in the dark, late each night. It was hard to believe when he couldn't figure out a way for the life of him how to fix things.  
  
Jillas was pulled out of his reverie by the shiny brass cowbell above the shop door. Gravos had helped Filia hang it there months ago, tied up with a bright pink ribbon laced with miniature sleigh bells so tiny, the faint chiming they made could barely be heard even in silence.  
  
Accompanying the opening door was a faint rush of air perfumed with roses and underscored by a delicious melody of scents that eluded capture. Even before he heard the nearly-silent barefoot padding of her feet, he knew the customer's identity.  
  
"Good morning, everyone," announced a feminine voice, barely louder than the miniature sleigh bells on the ribbon several feet above her.  
  
Jillas poked his head around the shelf, finally catching sight of the familiar, long, white-blonde hair. Xellos beat him to any response, so he opted to quietly continue working. Maybe Ari wouldn't know anything was off the mark.  
  
"Good day, miss."  
  
Her blue eyes, so much like Filia's, met his for a brief moment, then moved to Xellos.  
  
"Are you the new help?" Ari asked him. "I'm not familiar with you."  
  
"I am simply tending to the shop for Miss Filia while she recovers," Xellos cheerfully replied. "Is there something which I might help you with?"  
  
Jillas caught the movement of shadows on the wall as she turned from the Mazoku, moving to where she could snag Jillas' attention once more. "Mr. Jillas, is this true?"  
  
She walked up to his side, and Jillas marveled, not for the first time, how tall she actually was. Her frame and build was so slight, she seemed smaller than her actual five foot nine. He hesitated, considering his answer, shifting his gaze to Xellos for a brief heartbeat before looking back to Ari.  
  
"She...she has sustained some injuries." There. The truth. But it would protect Lord Valgaav too.  
  
"Oh, I do hope she'll be all right. You'll let me know when she's better, won't you?" Ari asked Jillas.  
  
He managed a smile for her. "Sure will, Miss Ari."  
  
It was always so unusual to see her smile; there was just something about her which made one seem out of place, or perhaps just unused to that particular expression. But Jillas noted he could usually make her smile at least once a visit. Now if he could only just be able to do the same for Filia again.  
  
Ari turned back to Xellos. "I'm afraid I nearly forgot my business and my manners both. My name is Arianna, but as you can see, I'm simply known as Ari around here. And you?"  
  
That smile was still plastered on the Mazoku's face. Jillas idly wondered if it made everyone's skin crawl, or only those who knew what he truly was. "Greetings, Miss Arianna. I am Xellos, a friend of Miss Filia's."  
  
Jillas bit back a comment and resumed dusting.  
  
Ari was quiet for a moment longer than normal, then greeted Xellos before moving on to discuss the order Jillas knew she had come to retrieve; a fine sword he and Gravos had forged, and a pretty little tea set Filia had made. "I have an order for a small tea set with roses and a specially-designed sword. The records will show the sword under the name Kazeno Tenshi I believe."  
  
"Certainly, Miss Arianna. If you'll wait for just a moment," Xellos said, reaching under the counter for the large black book in which Filia would make note of her custom requests. "Ah, yes. Here we are." He gave her a beaming smile. "If you'll wait one moment longer, I shall retrieve them for you."  
  
Jillas watched him step into the modified closet, which doubled as a storage room.  
  
"I'm afraid I sensed the subject might be bad to bring up around Mr. Xellos," Ari suddenly said as she turned back to Jillas, approaching him. Her normally soft voice was even more breathy and faint. "What happened to Mr. Valgaav?"  
  
Jillas really didn't know how to answer that. "He's...he left." He tried to keep down the sniffle which was stinging his nose, but didn't quite make it.  
  
Ari had just detached her coinpurse from her belt, and it slipped through her fingers in surprise, landing on the floor with a muffled clan. "He what?"  
  
"It's a long story, and I don't really understand it, but--"  
  
Jillas was cut off by Xellos' annoyingly lighthearted voice, and Arianna jumped, startled.  
  
"But I'm afraid it's connected to the reason for Miss Filia to be quite gravely injured, although I anticipate she'll make a full recovery." He smiled brightly, setting the boxes on the counter. "Are these what you ordered, Miss Arianna?"  
  
"I didn't see you there, Mr. Xellos, I'm sorry." Ari walked back to the counter, and inspected the contents, looking over the tea set first before hefting the sword, holding it with an air of calm self-possession that only comes with experience. She moved it experimentally, testing the grip of the handle as well as the weight, and inspected the workmanship of the blade.   
  
"Yes, these are absolutely perfect. Please tell Mr. Gravos and Miss Filia they've completely astounded me again with their craftsmanship. And tell Miss Filia I wish her a speedy recovery," Ari said as she returned the sword to its box, and straightened her patched, and slightly frayed scandalously small skirt. "How much do I owe?"  
  
Xellos consulted the book. "From the notations here, it would seem that a price has been agreed upon." He quoted the cost which Filia had listed, and Jillas waited.  
  
"That sounds very reasonable."  
  
He was used to Ari haggling with one of them for the sport of it, but this time, she didn't. Ari wasn't just _acting_ nervous. She smelled nervous. Jillas knew she was a sharp one, and surmised she picked up on the undercurrents.  
  
She paid out the coins to the correct sum, then returned the purse to her belt. "I believe I'll be on my way." The way she lifted the two boxes belied the strength her slim frame concealed. "Have a nice day, you two."  
  
Jillas moved to the door, opening it for her, and as she passed through, her eyes met his in a brief, sympathetic glance.   
  
He couldn't take another minute in the shop, which had suddenly become stuffy as the scent of roses and other faint spices evaporated. Gravos had the right idea, preferring to keep to himself out back by the forge. He tucked the polishing rag away on his belt, and slipped out the rear door into the house, avoiding Xellos' closed-eyed gaze.  
  
In the kitchen, he hesitated, not certain what to do next. The grandfather clock chimed the late morning hour, and he decided to see if Filia was awake yet.  
  
Jillas quietly crept up to the doorway and peeked in, not wanting to disturb Filia if she happened to be resting. When he saw her though, he couldn't keep back a tiny whimper. The sound caught her ears, and Filia tore her gaze from the window as she wiped the silent tears off her cheeks.  
  
"Come in, Jillas," she said softly.  
  
He hurried in to her bedside. "How are you feeling, oneesan?" Filia looked at her hands, staying silent for such a long time, Jillas started to worry even more than he usually did. "Oneesan?"  
  
"Old, Jillas," she finally whispered. "I feel old. Old and tired." She lay her head back on the pillows, staring at the ceiling. "It feels as though I've lived a lifetime in a year."  
  
"Oneesan!" He carefully hugged her, crying onto her shoulder. "It will be okay."  
  
"Of course it will, Jillas." Her tone said more than her words. It wasn't condescending, but a weary recital of the proper thing to say. Filia patted his back softly. "Don't trouble yourself so."  
  
He pulled away to sit up, looking at her and sniffling. Her whole demeanor frightened him, the broken resignation he was seeing in her eyes. "What can I do, oneesan? There must be something I can do to fix this."  
  
Filia merely stared out the window, her gaze far away. Her face remained expressionless, but Jillas thought he saw the beginning of a bitter smile briefly twist at her mouth before it too faded. Finally, she spoke. "There is nothing to be done."  
  
"You can't just give up," he pleaded.  
  
Filia closed her eyes. "I've lain here a week. I have thought of nothing else but for a way out." She shook her head. "There is none. It's over."  
  
"It's not fair..."  
  
"I'm beginning to realize life never is. Life is darkness. It's the light that's temporary and quite artificial."  
  
Jillas shook his head slowly, more in disbelief than in protest. "Oneesan, that can't be true."  
  
"It's sweet you think so. I've lost everything twice over, and I...I can't afford to maintain hope anymore. It's too costly."  
  
"You haven't lost _everything_," he timidly ventured. "You still have me and boss."  
  
Her eyes drifted to his as a small, sad smile touched her lips, and she reached out, patting his cheek gently. "That I do. Believe me when I say I'm very well aware of this, and that it's done more good than you know."  
  
He hugged her again, a little more tightly than before. "If you can't afford hope, oneesan, I'll find a way to get enough for the both of us."  
  
She hugged him with a sudden fierceness that took his breath away, burying her face in his fur. He heard a few choking tremors coming from deep within her as she fought down sobs, and then the slow, shuddering sigh as she won the battle. When she pulled away, her eyes were moist.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Jillas. It just all hurts too much to feel anything else."  
  
"I know, oneesan." He thought for a moment, then looked at her. "I have something which you might be able to hold onto."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"It was a one in a million chance you found Lord Valgaav, and a one in a million chance he even survived. You both beat those odds. I don't think the Fates would have let that happen just for this to go down." He picked up a handkerchief and pressed it to her cheek, and she took a hand from her eyes just long enough to cover her face with it, muffling her sobs. "I think it will be okay in the end, somehow. Someday."  
  
Filia nodded shakily. "Okay, Jillas," she whispered, heaving a deep, quivering sigh and sniffled.  
  
"There, there. Rest now. I'll bring you dinner later." He helped her scoot down the bed and get comfortable, and gently patted her head. "Call for me if you need me."  
  
"If I told you I felt bruised and sore inside," Filia whispered, "would you understand what I meant?"  
  
It was Jillas' turn to be quiet for a moment. "Better than you realize, oneesan. Better than you realize. Now rest." He helped her scoot back down the bed and tucked the covers up to her chin. Jillas sat on the nearby chair, and reached out to stroke Filia's hair back from her forehead soothingly, waiting until she fell asleep before he left.  
  
Things would be all right. They had to be. He would find a way to fix everything, somehow.  
  
He didn't have the faintest clue how, but they were alive, and that was always a good place to start.  
  
_Wherever there is life, there is always hope_.  
  


_to be continued..._

  



	2. Chapter 2

**All Through the Night**  
**Chapter Two**

  
  
The way the sun flooded the room with indirect light told Filia it was sometime in the afternoon. With a soft groan, she shoved herself up into a sitting position, her head feeling thick and muzzy from too much sleep. She felt as though a bone-deep lethargy saturated every fiber of her being; and although the injuries had long since healed, the very concept of leaving the bed just made her feel all the more weary.  
  
The shadows were beginning to distort, adding extra length to the objects which cast them. Late afternoon, then. She yawned as she rubbed her eyes, then stared at the floor apathetically. For a few moments, she debated the merits of getting out of bed. Her hair felt heavy and dull from not having been washed for, what had it been? Slightly more than a week now? Two weeks? She wasn't sure, and she didn't care. The passage of time wasn't marked to her. It simply was, just like everything else in her life. Just there. Just existing.  
  
The idea of motion barely had a chance for a foothold in her will. No, maybe tomorrow -- just like yesterday and the day before that. Maybe tomorrow she'd consider it. Not today, though. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe then, things will be better. Maybe if she slept a little bit longer, the nightmare would be over. Maybe if she stayed in bed one more day, she would actually wake up next up, and everything would be right again.  
  
Tomorrow. Today, she would snuggle under the blankets again, and pull them up, over her head, over her mind, over her thoughts and sleep.  
  
Filia did not flinch when the door creaked on its hinges then clattered softly against the wall. She didn't push the covers away at the voice. When the various smells of dinner cooking in the kitchen when it wafted through the open door and permeated her blankets, she pressed her lips together at the faint twinge of nausea it produced. She simply wasn't hungry. No appetite. The odor of food harbored not the slightest bit of appeal.  
  
Her grip on the quilt was slack, and offered no resistance as it was abruptly pulled back to her waist. Filia shut her eyes tighter to block out the light, and then gloved hands seized her wrists. The grip was firm, but not painful, and she was pulled back into a sitting position.  
  
"Now, Miss Filia, you're quite recovered physically from your unfortunate incident." The familiar and obnoxiously cheerful voice grated in her ears, jarring her nerves. She cracked one eye open, glaring at him. "You're not doing yourself the least bit of good staying in bed all the time."  
  
"Go 'way," she growled, trying to lay back down. All she managed to do was simply sag back against his grip on her wrists.  
  
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Miss Filia. Now, are you going to get up and get dressed and come out to dinner yourself, or do I have to do it for you?"  
  
"I'm not hungry."  
  
"Oh, dear. Yes, I was afraid of that. Well, in that case..."  
  
Filia opened both eyes wide as she was pulled out of bed and to her feet, held steady for just barely long enough to get her footing, and then blinked as he started to raise her nightgown. She snapped her hands down her front, keeping it down the best she could as her face turned bright red.  
  
"You hentai namagomi! Get your hands off me!" she shrieked. Wildly, she looked around for mace-sama, which was nowhere in sight.  
  
"Then do it yourself. But you will get dressed, and you will leave this room." His tone was still obnoxiously cheerful, but there was a subtle undercurrent of steel, a warning that cautioned her not to test him further.  
  
"Fine," she mumbled, glaring at him as she took a step back. "Just get out."  
  
"I'm doing this for your own good, Miss Filia," he replied. "I simply hate to see my lovely dragon waste away for no good reason."  
  
"No good reason?" she repeated incredulously, blinking back the sting of hot tears. "How dare you?"  
  
She shivered as his eyes opened to slits, a chilling smile on his face. "Sore wa himitsu desu, Miss Filia. Now, do get dressed." He left the room, and the faint, ringing thud of the door as it shut made her jump.  
  
For a moment, she considered returning to bed, but knew it was folly. Left with no other recourse, she turned to her closet and rummaged through her dresses, finally settling on the only one which came even somewhat close to matching her mood. She pulled off her nightgown, then on went a lightweight, white cotton shift. Over that went an undyed gray woolen dress she wore for heavy cleaning projects. Filia twisted her dull, unwashed hair into a sloppy bun at the nape of her neck, securing it with a few pins, then stepped into plain, black shoes.  
  
It looked like a stranger stared back at her from the small mirror above her dresser; a woebegone ghost that one might find haunting a derelict mansion, haunting the halls with an eerie keening each night over some long-lost love. Her lips twisted wryly at the romanticized comparison. It certainly didn't feel too far off the mark, save for the fact her body at least still harbored a pulse.  
  
Filia suspected that Jillas and Gravos each had thoughts which perhaps followed a similar path to hers when they took in her appearance as she entered the kitchen. Although that feigned smile never seemed to falter, there was displeasure somewhere in Xellos' features that she couldn't quite pin down.  
  
"Has your waistline expanded too much for your regular attire, Miss Filia?" Xellos quipped as she sat down. "You really should watch your weight."  
  
Instead of getting angry, Filia merely ignored the jibe. "You told me to get dressed. I did," she replied dully. "What more do you want?"  
  
"I want you to stop acting like the silly dragon you've been, and snap out of it!" he said. "There is really no reason for these melodramatics."  
  
It was deathly silent at the table. Gravos paused in scooping some of the stew into his bowl. Filia kept her eyes fixed on a tiny knot in the wooden table, just breathing. Finally, she was certain she had the sob in her throat under enough control to manage speech.  
  
"I wouldn't expect a worthless Mazoku like yourself to know the first thing about these so-called melodramatics," she said caustically.  
  
Silence.  
  
"I see." His tone was far too even, too dangerous. "So you would rather bide your time with someone who would beat you to death? I would expect such weak-minded actions from a vapid, uneducated, human woman, but not from my little dragon."  
  
"I am _not_ your little dragon," she hissed, not moving her head as she lifted her eyes, glaring at him through her lashes. He met her gaze with a slitted glare of his own.  
  
Silence.  
  
Suddenly, the closed-eyed smile was firmly back in place. "You might wish to consider returning to your shop tomorrow," Xellos said, as if nothing had taken place. Filia shivered slightly at the startling and abrupt change in topic. "Your customers are wondering what has become of you."  
  
"I'll consider it," she mumbled woodenly, turning her attention to the bowl of food Jillas had put before her. They ate in silence for several more minutes, or rather, Jillas and Gravos did. Xellos merely sat at the table, smiling innocently as he sipped his tea, and Filia made a few halfhearted stabs at her stew.  
  
"Want me to draw up a hot bath for you after supper, oneesan?" Jillas asked softly.  
  
Filia considered it, then nodded. "I'd appreciate that."  
  
He beamed, pleased to have something he could do for, and patted her arm.  
  
"Yes, you really shouldn't be letting yourself go like this, Miss Filia," Xellos said. "That half-breed isn't worth your time."  
  
The metal spoon bent under Filia's convulsively tight grip. "Shut up, namagomi," she hissed.  
  
Xellos twitched. When he spoke, his tone was deceptively pleasant, but there was an undercurrent which chilled her. "I would not say such things if I were you."  
  
Filia wondered why neither Jillas nor Gravos were saying a word in her defense, but at the same time she was glad for it. Neither of them would stand a chance against Xellos, and she was petrified that he might consider them superfluous.  
  
Finally, she pushed her half-empty bowl away. She had no appetite for food to begin with, and the tension in the room tied her stomach into knots.  
  
"I'll draw up that bath for you," Jillas said, picking up their bowls and carrying them from the table.  
  
"Thank you, Jillas." Filia stood, and wordlessly left the kitchen, retiring to her bedroom to get a clean robe.  
  
The snap of the door shutting made her jump and whirl about, and he was already there, his arms impossibly tight around her. Filia couldn't breathe, both from fear and the restraint, as his eyes opened.  
  
"You seem to have difficulty remembering who I am, Miss Filia." His voice was soft and smooth.  
  
"How could I forget what you are, nama--" She gasped in pain as his grip tightened to the point where she feared a broken rib.  
  
He said nothing at first, then trailed a fingertip down her cheek, looking her over as if considering something. "I do believe a fox pelt coat would look lovely on you."  
  
Filia felt nauseated. "You wouldn't..."  
  
Xellos merely smiled. "Perhaps I might, if you need a reminder of your proper place."  
  
"Why won't you just leave?" she whispered.  
  
"Leave? Whyever for? You need me here, Miss Filia, not only to protect you against those who would harm you, but other Mazoku as well. You are a solitary Golden dragon, and a lovely target."  
  
Filia closed her eyes. "Let me go, please?"  
  
"But of course, Miss Filia," he said cheerfully. "You need only but ask." His arms vanished, and as she cautiously opened her eyes, she found she was alone in her room once more.  
  
Filia sank down onto the bed, shuddering violently as adrenaline and fear caught up with her, and curled into a fetal ball, hugging a pillow to her chest. How long she stayed like that, she wasn't sure, but a knock at the door made her jump. "What?"  
  
"Oneesan, your bath is ready," Jillas called. "Is everything all right?"  
  
"Yes." She hoped her voice didn't waver as she got up, collecting a change of clothes. "Thank you, Jillas," she told him as she opened the door.  
  
He beamed cheerfully. "You're welcome, oneesan."  
  
On impulse, she hugged Jillas tightly for a moment, then retreated to the bath without another word.  
  


_to be continued..._  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Note to Readers:** Thanks so much for the feedback! I'm really glad you're enjoying this. ^_^  
~ Zanne  
  


**All Through the Night**  
Chapter Three

  
  
Several hours later, as the sun was well on its way to sinking behind the hills, Filia was still trying to come up with a plan. The Mazoku couldn't remain here. That much was certain. She didn't care what had happened with Valgaav; whatever was wrong, they would get through it together.  
  
She looked in the mirror of her vanity table, toweling her long, blonde hair until it was dry enough to comb. She wasn't looking forward to that; it would take her a while to make a dent in all the tangles which had resulted from being recumbent for nearly a week.  
  
A week. Filia closed her eyes. She would give anything to go back to that horrible day, to change the events. It was all so fuzzy and discordant in her mind, peppered with brief flashes of clarity. All she knew was that her head, her whole body, had hurt so much, and the room would not stop spinning. If she had been more herself that day, never would she have let Valgaav leave.  
  
She considered sending Jillas and Gravos for help, but what help? Would Lina even stand a chance? It was possible, but they had no idea where the sorceress was at, and even if they were to search for her, Filia doubted anything would come of it. Surely Xellos would find out, and surely he would make certain they never reached their destination.  
  
Maybe it was paranoid thinking, but she did not trust him. He was a Mazoku. To trust a Mazoku was folly. How often had that lesson been drummed repeatedly into her mind?  
  
Filia considered sending the servants after Valgaav, begging him to return. But what then? What else? What could they possibly do against the Beastmaster's priest, who had destroyed hundreds of her kind with just one spell? No, it was a hasty and foolish move. Someday, a chance would arise. She had to believe that.  
  
But not right then.  
  
She considered that any number of her plans would have a chance for success, but for every plan, there was a list of at least a dozen things which could go wrong, badly. Filia refused to believe that the situation was that desperate as to demand a do-or-die one-shot chance of success. There had to be something else she was overlooking, or an opportunity that had not yet presented itself.  
  
She had to keep hope alive, somehow. Looking at her own reflection in the mirror, large solemn eyes staring back from a face pale and drawn, Filia was afraid it was futile. _Certainly it would be easier to just give up_, she considered, studying the iridescent mother-of-pearl handle of her brush.  
  
Filia began the task of working out the tangles in her hair, starting at the bottom. Even that quickly proved to be an effort. Her muscles, sore from idleness and abuse, found the repetitive motions stressful. When Filia raised her arm to brush higher, a twinge of pain down her back and shoulder caused her to clench her teeth.  
  
A rustle of fabric caught her attention a split second before a gloved hand wrapped over hers, taking the brush from her grip. Filia jumped, looking back, her heart lodged in her throat as she stared up at Xellos.  
  
A quick glance to the door assured her that she did remember to shut it. "What are you doing in my bedroom?" she demanded, and reached her hand back for her brush. "Give me that."  
  
He held it just beyond her reach, smiling that ever-present, maddening, closed-eye smile. "Now, Miss Filia, I only thought to assist you. It seems that you are not quite capable of brushing your hair without pain."  
  
"What are you doing in my bedroom?" she repeated. "I shut my door."  
  
"Doors are not of my concern."  
  
"You can't just come in here whenever you feel like it!" Filia cried.  
  
His eyes opened just a fraction, just barely enough for her to catch a faint gleam of amethyst. He reached out and brushed his gloved hand down her hair with a feather-soft touch. A shiver ran down her spine, but whether it was from fear or the contact, Filia couldn't say.  
  
"Turn back around, Miss Filia." His voice was soft, almost gentle, but it was no less an order. Filia complied, swallowing hard and watched him in the mirror. When he raised the brush to her hair, she tensed, closing her eyes and bracing herself against the pain of pulled snarls and tangles.  
  
But there was none. She could barely feel the brush or his hand as he moved both of them through her tresses. Filia cracked her eyes open and watched him. Her hair shone in the reflection, illuminated by the soft glow of the oil lamp on her vanity table, which was quickly becoming the only source of light as the sun set. Out in the hall, she could hear the clock chiming the eighth hour.  
  
Xellos worked slowly; he was in no rush. Little by little, he worked out ever tangle with utmost caution, his touch so light that Filia could scarcely feel a thing. The shadows deepened as the lamp wick burned down and twilight gave way to night. When at last he reached the crown of her head, Filia closed her eyes once more and tilted her head back with the faint pull as he brushed her hair from her face.  
  
The confusion was overwhelming. This _was_ the same Mazoku who had threatened to kill Jillas, was it not? Yet, the whole act of brushing her hair; it was so gentle, so intimate in its caring. It had to be a facade somehow.  
  
He moved the brush over her scalp with greater pressure once all the tangles were removed, but it felt soothing. Soon, he would disappear frequently from her vision as he would crouch down, bringing the brush straight from her scalp al the way to the tips. It felt as though not single tangle remained.  
  
Her nerves jolted with electricity as he slipped a hand under her hair, brushing his fingertips softly across the back of her neck. The brush began working on the underside of her hair, moving gently down from the scalp, searching for any hidden snarls. No one had ever brushed her long, prized mane so thoroughly, nor so gently.  
  
What was he doing to her? It was a lie, a facade. It had to be. He was a Mazoku, he couldn't even begin to try to care!  
  
Right?  
  
Filia opened her eyes and looked at him through her mirror. He was obscured in the shadows of the dark room, by her own shadow between the lamp and him. As if knowing he was being watched, Xellos raised his head slightly and opened his eyes, holding her own through the mirror and he looked out under his bangs. The brush reappeared on the vanity, and both of his hands slid up the back of her neck, under her hair, into her hair, his fingertips tightening in the locks.  
  
But the pressure, although firm, was gentle. Filia couldn't look away, she couldn't think as he continued to lightly kneed her neck, working his way down slowly to her upper back. Xellos' open-eyed gaze never faltered or wavered from her own, and Filia lost track of the time.  
  
It was too surreal. The dim light, the shadows, the whole situation. It had to be a dream. But the clock's sudden interruption of the stillness in the room proved otherwise. She counted off nine chimes, she though. Perhaps she missed one.  
  
Xellos rested a hand on her shoulder, and gently stroked her hair back from her forehead with his other. She closed her eyes and leaned back against him, her mind racing. Everything was demanding she scream, that she assault him for daring to even think of touching her, for even being here. Guilt tried to make itself known; how she could even relax in the presence of the Mazoku who killed so many of her kind, who drove off her mate?  
  
The low, shuddering sob that strained in her throat, tapering into a heart-wrenching moan told her how. Too much fatigue, too much hurt, too much hopelessness. The ache deep down, the shattered feeling, all those things left her weak. The kindness was all that mattered, not even the source meant a thing.  
  
A gloved thumb lightly brushed over her cheek, wiping at the dampness there.  
  
"Now, Miss Filia," he gentle chided, his voice barely more than a whisper, "you're quite tired. Perhaps you should turn in now. You do have a long day ahead; getting back into looking after your shop."  
  
"Mmm. Yes. I suppose you're right," she murmured, rising to her feet. He kept a hand at the small of her back, and another on her arm as he guided her to the bed.  
  
"Rest," he told her, pushing her back onto her pillows. "The morning will come early for you, as tired as you are. I will assist you in the morning, to bring you up to date on what transactions have taken place. For now, though, sleep."  
  
Filia snuggled under the blankets, watching him. His eyes were closed once more, and the ever-present smile was back. "Mr. Xellos?"  
  
"Yes, Miss Filia?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
He opened his eyes once more, watching her for a few long moments. Then, he reached for her, tracing a lone fingertip down her cheekbone.  
  
"Sore wa himitsu desu," he whispered, and vanished into the shadows.  
  
She stared at where he had been a long time before rolling over to face her window. In spite of her fatigue, sleep was a long time in coming. Too much was on her mind.  
  
Filia had indeed discovered an emotion worse than hopelessness. That was confusion, so deep and turbulent that nothing in her world made sense, and she wondered if she perhaps she was going quite mad. He was a Mazoku. He was a monster, a cold-blooded killer. He threatened Jillas, and he threatened Valgaav.  
  
He had even threatened her, and more than once.  
  
But a little voice in her mind was a traitor. Quietly, it pointed out that all he ever really demanded of her was to be treated cordially. Could it really be as simple as that?   
  
Her elders had lied about so much; had they lied about the Mazoku, about Xellos, as well? She sincerely doubted that, but even that was no longer an absolute.  
  
Before she left the temple, before she met Lina and the others, she lived in a world of absolutes. Right and Wrong. Good and Evil. Black and White.  
  
It was only a monochromatic gray in varying tones.  
  
Before, she wondered which of all the potential moves she could see before her was the right one to take. Now, she wondered what her next move was, period. Everything had turned topsy-turvy, and the sheer force of the chaos inside her thoughts left her reeling and breathless. Uncertain. Down was up, and up was down.  
  
Yes, when unequivocal confusion was the only absolute value, it was a feeling far worse than the shattered hopelessness.  
  
Closing her eyes shut tightly, Filia snuggled under the blankets and pulled them up over her mind, desperate and longing for sleep to overtake her. Perhaps in the light of day, the last few turbulent hours would begin to make sense.  
  
The dawn arrived, and the morning proved her wishes false. His gentle demeanor continued on through the morning, the afternoon, the next day, and the day after that.  
  
The only time when he gave her cause to fear was when she turned her acidic wit on him.  
  
Even that consistency wasn't enough to settle her nerves. It wasn't enough to tell her which side of Xellos was the real one, or even if the answer to that was both. Filia couldn't shake the fear that the other shoe was simply waiting to drop, and worse than the despair was the high-strung paranoia of always expecting something around the corner.  
  
Filia blamed her constantly strained nerves the first time she blacked out.  
  


_to be continued..._

  



	4. Chapter 4

**Note to Readers:** Don't you just hate it when Real Life interferes with writing? If I could get a grip on reality, I'd choke it. ::sighs:: I'll get everything I'm doing updated, though. Promise. I'm glad those of you reading this are liking this story. I do have a reason for Xellos being the way he is, if anyone disagrees; feel free to email me and I'll explain. Or, you can be patient, as it'll come up later on in the story. ^_^ Thanks again for making this such a fun fandom.  
~ Zanne  
  


**All Through the Night**  
Chapter Four

  
  
Filia narrowed her eyes in weary annoyance at the misshapen lump of clay on the wheel which was supposed to be a delicate teacup. _What used to be so easy..._ She shook her head and mashed it down, dipping her hands into the bucket of water beside her. Try, try again.  
  
She closed her eyes, cupping her wet hands over the clay, manipulating the wheel's pedal with her feet once more and didn't focus on shaping it yet. Filia concentrated on her breathing, trying to relax. That was her problem.  
  
Filia was having difficulty keeping her touch light, and her hand steady. She hated the sense of hopeless endlessness that settled over the house. At least from her view. She hated Xellos, but she feared him now too. Not quite as much for her own sake, but...  
  
Damnit. He knew exactly which buttons to push to jerk her heart around the way he wanted to. The problem was, Filia couldn't tell whether or not he was bluffing, and she didn't think she could live with the consequences if she happened to be wrong.  
  
Her hands twitched, and her fingers tightened into fists, making an even bigger mess of the clay.  
  
Three weeks. Three weeks since he had walked out.  
  
It felt like it had been forever and yesterday all rolled into one, and nothing changed the fact she still wanted, still needed him.  
  
_Where are you?_ Filia looked to the window bleakly, torn between wishing him back, and glad he was gone, and safe. He couldn't fight Xellos. Maybe Miss Lina could, but even that was still just a maybe. The Sword of Light was gone.  
  
Filia began to remold the clay, staring at the lump with a sense of detachment. She wanted Xellos out of her life, to leave her alone, and achieving that seemed impossible. Maybe not impossible, but...all the possibilities were too riddled with 'what ifs' and 'maybes'.  
  
She started to try to reshape the lump into a simpler vase design instead, but it was useless. Lethargy had begun to settle in, and she just didn't feel like bothering anymore. Filia mushed it down into a ball and stood to return it to the container with the rest of the clay.  
  
Filia felt a rather deep-rooted sense of alarm as she opened her eyes, finding herself sprawled on the floor by the pottery wheel. She still felt a bit woozy as she pushed herself up into a sitting position, looking around frantically.  
  
Still alone. No one saw, as far as she knew. Filia wondered how long it had been, but doubted it was more than a few seconds, based off the previous three times it had happened.  
  
She carefully stood, sitting back down on the bench until her head felt clearer. Filia knew she had been stricken in the head initially the day Valgaav left. While she hadn't noticed anything amiss at first, the following week had been spent in bed, drifting in and out of sleep.   
  
Filia looked down at the lump of clay, now wasted as it likely had picked up even the smallest bits of debris from the floor. She crouched and picked it up, looking at it without really seeing it.  
  
What was going on? Her first inclination was to blame Xellos. The idea of confronting him over it left a sour taste in her mouth. Not that confrontations with Xellos were proving to be a good thing, but a sudden surge of...territoriality, perhaps...left her feeling somewhat aggressive at the mere idea of telling him. That emotion in itself left her unsettled and wary. She didn't even feel very much like herself anymore.  
  
Filia contemplated telling either Jillas or Gravos, or both, but quickly ruled it out. That same aggressiveness rose up in her at the idea, although nowhere near as strongly. But Jillas would fret and worry and fawn over her even more than usual, and Gravos, he would try to be helpful she knew, but she doubted the odds of that being the end result.  
  
In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she just wanted to leave. Go away somewhere, far away, rather like a hermit.  
  
It had to just be the stress and frustration.  
  
As she started to stand once more, a sudden flash of movement at the corner of her eye sent her jumping a foot in the air with a startled shriek, stumbling backward and grabbing hold of the shelf there...which was not quite strong enough to support the weight of a falling dragon, even one in a humanoid form. The shelf broke free of its supports, and drying pottery crashed to the floor around her as she fell.  
  
"Oh, dear. I always knew dragons were a bit clumsy, but isn't this a bit much, Miss Filia?"  
  
She looked up at Xellos, at his perpetually cheerful expression, and a wave of hatred washed over her, so bitter and intense it robbed her of her breath. All she wanted more than anything else in existence, even more than Valgaav's return, was to see that Mazoku dead, preferably by her own hand.  
  
But it was a flash fire, blazing with impossible heat, and dying down to ashes that left her cold and apathetic. "What do you want?" Her tone sounded wooden and dull, even to her own ears.  
  
"I'm simply informing you that at this present time, Lord Beastmaster requires my services, so I'll be taking my leave."  
  
"Good."  
  
"I will be returning, most assuredly," he continued, and cracked his eyes open to slits, that smile still affixed on his face. "I trust I can count on you to be able keep things as they have been?"  
  
Filia didn't answer as she studied a drying, but now damaged teacup, turning it over slowly in her hand. She could hear between the lines. No attempts to run away, no attempts to bring in aid, no attempts to find or get word to Valgaav. In short, behave as always, or suffer whatever evil consequence he should care to mete out.  
  
"Miss Filia?"  
  
She finally looked up at him. "Of course. Whatever."  
  
"You do not sound happy with the arrangement." Xellos walked over to crouch beside her, and Filia cringed away from him. But when his hand touched her cheek, it was astonishingly gentle. "Do not worry, my little dragon. I shouldn't be gone long, and when I return, I will help replace what you've broken."  
  
_I'm not your little dragon, and I sure don't need your help_, she thought acidly. But what escaped her lips was a bland sound of agreement.  
  
He slid his hand behind her back, helping her to her feet. Filia looked at him, seeing how close he was to her, and it took every ounce of willpower not to sink her fangs into him, to savagely attack with every fiber of her being.  
  
Xellos' eyes met hers, wide open. They stared at one another for a moment, then he smiled, a thin-lipped, terse expression. "I'll be checking up on you when I can." They both knew it was less a helpful promise than it was a subtle threat.  
  
"I'm sure you will." Her tone was just dry enough to be ironic.  
  
"Then good day, Miss Filia. I will see you shortly." With that, he disappeared.  
  
Filia turned her attention to the mess, staring at it. Part of her wanted to immediately start working and cleaning it up, setting things back to rights and replacing what was damaged.  
  
In the end though, she just turned and walked away, leaving the shop.  
  
"Hi, oneesan!" Jillas said, looking up from where he sat on the kitchen floor, working on building some sort of device.  
  
Filia moved her hand in a vague sort of fashion that might have been a wave. "I'm going to lay down for a while, Jillas."  
  
Immediately, his ears flicked back, his expression growing concerned. "Are you all right, oneesan? You look pale."  
  
"I'm just tired. Oh, and don't bother with the shop. I'll fix the mess when I get up."  
  
"Mess?"  
  
"I stumbled and pulled a shelf down." Filia shrugged. "I'll deal with it later."  
  
"Do you want me to bring you some tea?"  
  
For a moment, that sounded good, but then she realized it meant he would likely come into her room, and at the moment, she just wanted to be left alone. "Later, Jillas."  
  
His ears drooped, but he gave her a smile nevertheless. "Okay, oneesan. Just let me know."  
  
"I will." She went into her bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind her before starting to pace, feeling like checking everything, making sure nothing was out of place. Filia moved her vanity stool a few inches to the left, adjusted the positioning of her brushes, and straightened the mirror so it was in perfect alignment with the vertical supports.  
  
Most things were as she wanted them, so after a few more minutes of pacing, Filia lay down on her bed, curling into fetal position. She drew the covers up until she was completely under them, tucking the ends under her head, covering her closed eyes with her hand. With the drawn curtains, the blanket, and the hand, it was finally dark enough to be satisfactory, and she drifted off to sleep.  
  


* * *

  
He couldn't sleep, and he didn't really care to attempt it.  
  
The black void in his memory pulled at him, dragging him down like a black hole. Valgaav could clearly remember his day up to where he started to chop more wood for the woodpile, and he could clearly remember the kitchen, talking to his servants, seeing Xellos, seeing Filia...  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, trying to block out the memory of how she looked, flaring his wings and covering his head, one paw over his snout, as if trying to block out the vision by with even more darkness, as if the intense shadows of the deep cavern weren't enough. But it was useless; the image was branded there.  
  
Had he done that to her? Had he marred that sweet, gentle face? Injured the very hands that had brought him back from the brink of death, and carefully tended to his wounds no matter how coarsely he treated her?  
  
He must have.  
  
Vaguely, he could recall chopping wood; nothing coherent, just flashes of memory. Just as vaguely, he recalled coming to in the kitchen, the images forming in his mind as disjointed pictures. Clarity would diminish, tapering off, and then grow stronger, with that haunting blankness in between.  
  
No matter how hard he tried, Valgaav could not recall the most important time for the sequence of events. From the haziness of his memory, and the headache which had lingered for days afterwards, he guessed it was likely due to the blow he'd received. Hardly unheard of, but damnably frustrating all the same.  
  
Sometimes, though, he quit trying. It seemed to logical, too believable. He had heard confirmation from Filia's own lips. If it was the truth, then he didn't _want_ to remember.  
  
When he tried to sleep, it was worse. When he slept, his subconscious filled in that blank. Several times, he had woken into a cold sweat, pulling out of nightmarish depths where his worst fears were realized. Even now, he could hear the sickening sounds of flesh striking flesh, of bone snapping.   
  
He couldn't tell if it was just a nightmare, or the truth.  
  
More than once, he entertained the notion of just giving up, giving in. What was the point of remaining, when he had lost everything that had ever mattered to him, time and time again? This time, it was by his own hand.  
  
His tail twitched in agitation as he closed his wings even tighter over his head. Somehow, he had endured thousand of years of pain, but he suspected it was by the grace of the Mazoku nature which had been bestowed upon him. Now, all those memories still remained within him, but he was Mazoku no longer. Valgaav was a dragon again, through and through.  
  
The very idea that he had brought down harm on his own mate was unreal, unthinkable.  
  
But he had once before.  
  
Talons dug into bare rock, overpowering the granite, carving little furrows as they dug in.  
  
The idea to escape the pain was briefly overwhelming, and quite a pleasant notion. But only briefly. Filia had given up part of her own life energy at his expense to save him, even after all he had done. It felt too much as if to take that, it would just be another way to hurt her. But in spite of everything, there was still one more reason.  
  
Xellos.  
  
No matter what, the idea of leaving Filia at his hands revolted Valgaav. But he couldn't go to her -- _wouldn't_ go to her, not until he was certain he would never again bring her harm.  
  
"Filia," he whispered, wincing at the sound of her name.  
  
Gods, but he missed her, everything about her. Her expressive eyes, her laugh, her gentle smile.  
  
Someday, he vowed, he'd find a way back to her, try to win her back. Someday, he'd find a way to make sure he'd never harm her again.  
  
Someday.  
  
But, not today.  
  


_to be continued..._

  



	5. Chapter 5

**Note to Readers:** I'm back! I didn't have quite as much free time as I anticipated, but I did manage to get two chapters for this particular 'fic out. ^_^  
~ Zanne  
  


**All Through the Night**  
Chapter Five

  
  
_Maybe he won't return._ Wishful thinking, Filia knew, even as the words formed in her mind, but she could still hope. Two weeks had elapsed since Xellos had departed, and slowly, things were returning to normal.  
  
Well, as normal as they could get with a very conspicuous absence.  
  
Filia closed her eyes and turned away from the window, moving over to the fireplace to sink down onto the floor, gazing at the low flames. They provided her with a measure of detached distraction, the way they licked at the wood and snaked up toward the chimney like a living, otherworldly creature.  
  
Somewhat distant and muffled, Filia heard the faint grinding of hinges as the kitchen door swung open, and voices. Gravos and Jillas, returning from the town. They were talking, and then Jillas cried out in warning, a sound which was cut short by a heavy thud, a clatter, and a few words from Gravos that burned Filia's ears to hear.  
  
He must have forgotten to check to make sure the bottom door had opened as well. The latch that could be slid into place to join the two was loose. Jillas had been meaning to fix it.  
  
Some things never do change.  
  
Pity they were home so soon. She would have liked to savor the peace of solitude a bit longer, now that she was finished with her chores. It was growing increasingly difficult to find ample motivation to leave her bedroom each morning. Nothing sounding more appealing to her than to curl up under her blankets.  
  
"I found some prime--" Jillas cut himself off as he walked into the living room. "Oneesan! Are you all right?" He rushed over to her side, jerking his hand back in surprise as she growled softly in warning.  
  
Filia's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, Jillas." Why had she growled? At Jillas, of all people? It had been reflexive, instinctive. "What were you saying?"  
  
Jillas' ears were drooping, and he watched her warily. "Did you ... fall again, oneesan?" he asked carefully.  
  
Fall. His polite euphemism for the moments where blackness would overtake her, and she would wake some time later. Sometimes minutes, once an hour. Filia had hidden it from her two servants as long as possible. Once they did discover the problem, she had talked them out of finding a cleric by somehow persuading them that it was just the effects of stress.  
  
"No, Jillas," Filia said evenly, looking back to the flames. She redirected his attention back to his original train of thought. "What was it you found?"  
  
"Oh." He made a confused sound, then one of exultation. "Prime squash. Top quality. It will be good cooked up with brown sugar and butter."  
  
"No, it won't!" Gravos retorted from somewhere else in the house. Filia's tapered ear twitched. The hall. Toward the kitchen, but not quite there. She could hear his footsteps.  
  
"You just don't have any taste!" Jillas shot back in a friendly banter.  
  
"I have enough to tell you what that tastes like!" Closer now. The light cast from the hallway sconces no longer formed shadows on the wall before her as he stuck his head in, his huge bulk blocking out the light. "But I won't, 'cause there's a lady in our midst." He gave her a slight salute, tapping his fingers to his head as she looked at him.  
  
"Then why don't you both make supper?" Filia suggested. "That way you both will be sure to have food which each of you enjoy."  
  
"What about you, oneesan?"  
  
"Perhaps by then, I'll be hungry. I should think I would like steak, though. But for now, a pot of tea which I'll have in my room." With a fatigued grace, Filia rose to her feet. Jillas began to put a hand out to aid her, but apparently recalled her reflexive warning earlier, and hung back.  
  
"Go get some rest, Miss Filia, ma'am," Gravos said, stepping back from the doorway. "Jillas an' me, we can take care of things, and get ya your tea made up just the way ya like it."  
  
"Thank you, Gravos. I believe I shall do that." Filia paused, looking back to Jillas, who remained at the fireplace. "And I should like to try some of the dish you described when it is prepared."  
  
He smiled, but that was insufficient to fend off the worried gleam in his eyes. Filia turned away, unwilling to see it any longer, and retreated into the sanctuary of her room.  
  


* * *

  
The unusual behavior from Filia hadn't escaped Gravos' notice either. While he worried about her, he just attributed it to everything else that had gone down. Thinking back, he unintentionally hit the steak he was tenderizing to fry just a little too hard, reducing the red meat to a near-jelly consistency.  
  
He really had to watch his strength sometimes. It galled him to no end that at the times when they really needed him, his strength was insignificant. He wasn't the brightest star in the sky by any stretch, but he had sense enough to know that he didn't have a prayer at fighting a Mazoku, especially not one of Xellos' power.  
  
Poor Filia. Poor Boss.  
  
Jillas was always trying to think of ways to fix things. Gravos left that up to him. He wasn't smart like Jillas, and fixing things wasn't really his forte. He knew how to hammer a nail, he knew how to craft an ordinary piece of metal into a sword or battle axe or mace. He knew enough to keep a house in working order, to get by.  
  
Something of this level required heavy thinking. As he looked over to his smaller friend, Gravos surmised that was exactly what Jillas was currently engaged in doing.  
  
"Wha'cha come up with?" Gravos asked, trying to salvage the steak.  
  
Jillas didn't reply instantly, his furry brows knitted together in deep thought as he tended to the yellow squash. "Oneesan," he replied after a moment.  
  
"Wish there was somethin' we could do to cheer her up some."  
  
"I don't think that would work."  
  
"Yeah, we need Boss back here for that."  
  
"No, no," Jillas shook his head. "No, it's more than that, I think. I..." He trailed off.  
  
"You what?"  
  
"I think there's something else wrong with her now."  
  
That caught Gravos' attention. "Huh?" He scowled. "Ya think that damned Mazoku did something to her?"  
  
"I...maybe, but that's not what I'm thinking."  
  
"Tell me!"  
Jillas looked at him, and his ears twitched slightly. His expression was unreadable as he studied Gravos. "Don't say a word now."  
  
"A'course not. What kinda buffoon ya take me for?" Gravos huffed, resenting the implication that he'd betray a confidence.  
  
"What kind of stuff have you noticed about Oneesan lately?"  
  
"Hm." Gravos started to scratch his head in thought, remembering in the nick of time that his massive fingers were smeared with raw meat. "Well, she growls a lot, especially if anybody gets near her. She's a lot fussier than she used to be. I seen her move stuff around, and ya can't even really tell she moved 'em, it's just a wee bit this way or that. Nothing that'd really matter. Most of the blankets, they're in her room now, and she spends more and more time in there. And a'course, there's there stuff with her passin' out."  
  
"Yeah..." Jillas swished his tail, thinking. "What I was noticing, too."  
  
"Ya gonna tell me what yer thinkin', or do I have to beat it outta ya?" It was an idle threat, and they both knew it.  
  
"I think there's gonna be a little dragon," Jillas said softly.  
  
Gravos blinked. Then he gaped. Then he blinked some more. "Say what?!"  
  
"Shh!" Jillas shot a look to the doorway, then back to Gravos. "I don't know much about dragons, true, but I know enough to know that mother dragons are the most dangerous thing around."  
  
"Dangerous? Filia?" Gravos snorted softly.  
  
"Territorial, and ferociously protective of the egg."  
  
"So where's the egg?"  
  
"I don't think its laid yet."  
  
"How'd she..." The train of thought finally pulled into Gravos' station, and pieces fell into place. "It's Boss' kid?"  
  
"I can't think of anybody else." Jillas was quiet for a moment. "This could very well explain why she keeps...falling."  
  
"Ya think so? That'd be good. I was thinkin' she maybe got knocked a bit too hard on the noggin and just wasn't right in the head no more."  
  
Jillas shot him a mild glare.  
  
"So, what're we gonna do? She gonna be getting all growly and stuff at us more than she is?"  
  
"That's a concern, yeah."  
  
"What'll ya think that damned Mazoku'll do?" Jillas' eyes widened until they appeared to be nearly as big around as a dinner plate. If it wasn't for all that fur, Gravos figured he was probably getting real pale. "Hadn't thought that far ahead, huh?" Jillas shook his head, and he knew it was a bad situation. Even so, Gravos couldn't keep from feeling just a bit pleased at catching a passing thought which Jillas had obviously missed. "So whadda we do?"  
  
Jillas didn't reply immediately. "First, I think we need to find out if Oneesan knows about all this."  
  
"Why wouldn't she?"  
  
"Lord Valgaav said she wasn't all that familiar with how dragons oughta be, and the Goldens were pretty tight-laced." Jillas shook his head. "Even if she knows, we need to figure out what we're gonna do. This situation has all the earmarks of getting worse."  
  
"Ya gonna go up and talk to her?"  
  
Jillas studied the doorway, then shook his head. "Better not disturb her. She'll come down to dinner."  
  


* * *

  
Supper was a quiet affair. Filia seemed to be oblivious to the fact that Jillas and Gravos kept up none of their usual banter through the meal, focusing only on her food, as she had done for the last several weeks. She made the obligatory polite compliments as to the quality, but Jillas observed that she dined in such a manner which suggested she paid little notice to the taste. Her fork toyed with the food as often as it raised small bites to her lips, and she chewed without thought, her eyes somewhere far away.  
  
An enormous change from the Filia which Jillas once knew, but hardly any different from the Filia of recent weeks. Several times he considered bringing up his earlier concerns, but he would scarce get beyond opening his mouth before his nerve failed him. What _if_ he was wrong? What if she were to be offended?  
  
Even worse, what if he were to be _right_? What _could_ they do? He had no answers to give for any of the questions which rose in his mind. Jillas despised pointing out problems, and having not a single potential solution to offer.  
  
Idly, he considered searching for Valgaav, but the possibility of all that could go wrong scared him into inaction. Although he didn't share with Filia the extreme paranoia she had developed regarding Xellos, Jillas didn't trust the Mazoku in the slightest. Even in his absence, there were times during which Jillas would swear they were being watched.  
  
The soft thud of metal clattering against wood snapped Jillas out of his musings to see that Filia had dropped her fork onto her mostly-empty plate. Supper was over, at least for her.  
  
"Oneesan, a moment, please?" Jillas asked, blurting out the words before he could think. It was now or never.  
  
Filia regarded him with a controlled, weary patience. "Yes, Jillas?"  
  
He stammered a moment, then cleared his throat. "I need to talk to you."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Jillas hesitated. Would she be more comfortable in private, or would she not mind Gravos' presence? His hulking friend settled matters for him.  
  
"I'll take care'a the dishes," Gravos said amicably, and gestured to the doorway. "Go on and hit the livin' room. There's a nice warm fire goin' in there and it'd be a shame to waste it."  
  
Jillas shot him a look of gratitude and stood. "Shall we?"  
  
"Thank you, Gravos," Filia said, and turned for the hallway, walking the short distance to the living room where she curled up on one end of the soft couch. Jillas considered where to sit, and chose the floor, his back to the fire, looking up at her withdrawn expression earnestly.  
  
"Oneesan, it hasn't escaped mine or Gravos' notice that you've been acting a lot differently--"  
  
"It's been a rough several months, Jillas," Filia interrupted.  
  
His ears drooped. "Well, er, yes, we know this. It's not been easy, but it's more than that." He hesitated, watching her impatient expression. "You're more aggressive than I've ever known you to be. You've always had a temper, but this is different. It's quieter, a constant low simmer, kinda like. You're like a different person."  
  
"I feel like a different person." Her tone stopped just shy of being a snap.  
  
"Oneesan, hear me out," Jillas begged. "While it's true I don't know much about dragons, most of us know a thing or two about not messin' with a mother of _any_ species, and dragons are the most notorious." He swallowed nervously, not liking the look on her face. "And then there's all those times you just pass out for no apparent reason. What I'm wonderin' is, could you maybe, er, could it, could there be a, um, a little dragon on the way?"  
  
Filia's lips were pressed together in a hard, thin, white line, and her face was pale. Her large blue eyes seemed to grow darker as the expression in them was stormy. Jillas fought down the urge not to cringe and waited for the impending outburst of rage.  
  
It never came. Gradually, the storm seemed to lift, and her expression, although still tense, lost its rage to be replaced by a sort of pensive fear.  
  
"I...I had not considered that," she admitted softly, staring at the flames behind Jillas. "I do know I feel -- have been feeling much differently as of late." Her gaze drifted down to the floor. "It would seem that you know more of my kind than I do. Dragons hatched in my clan were not common, and the mothers were kept separated from the rest, tended by only a small sect of priestesses. Knowledge of such things was not encouraged among the unmated dragons."  
  
Jillas hadn't considered that. "Do you, er, have any idea what's gonna happen?"  
  
Filia didn't answer immediately. "I know the time frames for things." She was quiet for so long that Jillas almost spoke up before she continued. "It will be perhaps three more months before I...before there will be an egg to watch over." Filia shook her head slowly and closed her eyes. "I don't know to do."  
  
Jillas hesitated, then reached out and gave her hand what he hoped was a comforting pat. "It's okay, oneesan. We'll figure it out."  
  
She started to smile at him, but midway through her expression froze and congealed. Jillas snapped his attention to a shadowy corner as a third voice broke into their conversation.  
  
"Of course we will!" Xellos said cheerfully, stepping out of the shadows, beaming his familiar closed-eyed smile.  
  
Jillas held his breath. How long had he been there?  
  
"We will what?" Filia's voice sounded strangled.  
  
"Why, figure it out, of course!"  
  
His stomach twisted into knots, and he shot Filia a nervous glance.  
  
"You don't even know what we're talking about," Filia said, her tone low and slightly deep from her efforts to keep it steady.  
  
"But you'll tell me." Xellos smiled pleasantly.  
  
"What makes you think I'll tell you anything?" Filia retorted. Almost lazily, Xellos opened one eye just enough to stare at her. The air felt too thick for Jillas to breathe as he watched the silent, tense exchange.  
  
Whatever was in the message of his gaze, Filia heard it loud and clear. "Very well," she relented, her voice thick as she looked down to the floor. "We are concerned with having enough food to last through the winter."  
  
"Is that all it is, Miss Filia?" Xellos said, almost purring.  
  
"It's a valid concern, although I can see how you wouldn't consider it to be," Filia shot back. "Mazoku don't eat."  
  
"Not conventionally." Both eyes opened to slits, and he smiled a chilling, shrewd smile. "But I must say your emotions are exceptionally delicious right now."  
  
"You startled us," Filia said.  
  
"Oh, my apologies." He oozed insincerity.  
  
"Jillas, help me to my room?" Filia asked, standing, not taking her gaze from the Mazoku. Jillas glanced at him, then looked back to Filia, getting to his feet.  
  
"Sure thing, oneesan."  
  
"I'm sure your friend could use your aid in the kitchen," Xellos announced, suddenly appearing between them. Both Jillas and Filia jumped back a step, startled. Before either of them could react further, Xellos snaked an arm around Filia's waist. "I will assist Miss Filia."  
  
Jillas looked at her, and nearly cringed at the livid expression on her face, although it wasn't even directed at him. Her face was pale with rage, and the bright sapphires of her eyes seemed to darken almost to indigo. Time had a strange sensation of slowing down as she raised her hand, clearly intending to strike the Mazoku. Her lips curled back in a feral snarl, accompanied by a soft, infuriated hiss. Just as her hand began its flight toward Xellos' head, the Mazoku glanced at her, opening his eyes.  
  
Filia's hand stopped in midair, hovering inches from Xellos' cheek for what felt to Jillas like several long minutes. Finally, she let it drop to her side. Her shoulders slumped just enough that she almost appeared to deflate, and the rage succumbed to fatigue. So sudden and intense was the appearance of exhaustion that Jillas thought she might swoon.  
  
"Now, now, Miss Filia, you know you haven't been well." Xellos' voice was so irritating and cheerfully high that Jillas fought the urge to cover his ears. "Someone with your delicate constitution should attempt to avoid getting excited." Filia opened her eyes, looking at him with weary hatred, and he ushered her to the doorway. "You need to rest."  
  
Jillas watched them go, wondering how much of their earlier conversation Xellos had heard, and what was going on between the two of them. The Filia he remembered would have flown into a screaming rage, doing her level best to obliterate the Mazoku with little regard to anything around her. But there were unspoken messages being exchanged in the looks Xellos would give her now; messages that had the power to keep even a dragon's formidable anger in check.  
  
Shaking his head slightly, Jillas walked to the kitchen. This was looking to be shaping up to be one storm that would get worse long before it ever got better.  
  
He just had to believe that somehow, someway, it _would_ get better.  
  


_to be continued..._

  



	6. Chapter 6

**All Through the Night**  
Chapter Six

  
  
Filia didn't say a word to Xellos as he escorted her to her bedroom. When they reached the doorway, she stopped, placing her hand on the frame.  
  
"This is far enough," she told him quietly. When several heartbeats had passed, and he made no move to speak or move away, she looked to him, inwardly resigning herself to an argument she knew she would lose. Damn him.  
  
Their eyes met, and not for the first time, she wished she could read those terrible eyes. She hated them, hated him, and worst of all, she knew she hated him because of the strange thrall it felt that he held over her. It wasn't love; it was a deep sense of loathing so powerful that she felt sick just thinking of him. But that power was enough that her emotions bordered almost on obsession.  
  
Xellos was living proof that even beauty could be evil. His eyes, while terrible, did strange things to the very air in her lungs, causing it to congeal, her lungs to tighten. She hated him with every bit as much passion as she loved Valgaav.  
  
Maybe more.  
  
She hated him for his dark beauty, his terrible, hypnotic eyes, and for the way he had her cornered, powerless to make a move against him, and the way they both knew it. From time to time, an inner voice, appearing as the very essence of logic and reason, would suggest that it might not be simpler, easier, to simply surrender to Xellos. The more she tried to argue it, the more confused she would become. He tried to kill her, after all.  
  
He could have, but he didn't. He saved her from the falling rocks, and from herself when her entire world was failing her, and she had no choice but to launch an attack that everything in her protested against. He was the one who offered her the support and encouragement she needed.  
  
_That's the dragon I know._  
  
He threatened harm upon Jillas, he drove Valgaav away, and he was a _Mazoku_, someone who would have readily delivered Lina Inverse's head on a silver platter to an enemy if it served his purpose. And to think she once believed that Xellos and Lina were friends.  
  
Every argument she had, there was a counterpoint that seemed so rational, her own reasons grew muddled in the fatigue. Maybe it would be easier, simpler, better to just accept Xellos instead of trying to fight him.  
  
Still, she waited for the arguments to come, knowing in her heart that she wouldn't protest. She no longer had the strength to do so.  
  
Just when Filia thought she might have Xellos figured out, he would turn around and astound her.  
  
"If that is your desire, Miss Filia," Xellos replied. His voice was lower now, soft and smooth. Not the nearly-shrill, annoying pitch he usually used with others. Filia blinked, watching him as he released her, stepping back with a slight bow. "Would you care for me to bring you up some tea?"  
  
"Huh? Per...perhaps later..." Damn him for setting her world on end yet again. The figurative ground was shifting madly, unstable.  
  
"Very well. Should you change your mind, you only need to ask." Xellos turned away to leave.  
  
Filia leaned on the doorframe for support. Just when she thought she might have him pinned down enough to anticipate his next move, he proved her wrong.  
  
"Xellos?"  
  
"Yes, Miss Filia?" He turned back around, his eyes closed, smiling pleasantly.  
  
"Why did you come back?" She watched him as he didn't answer immediately, half-expecting to be told it was a secret.  
  
"Because I said I would."  
  
"You don't always do what you say you will."  
  
That caused his eyes to open, and he regarded her calmly. "What makes you say that?"  
  
"I'm still alive."  
  
A faint smile tugged the corner of his mouth, stopping just shy of becoming a smirk. Filia shivered.  
  
"it would appear so, yes."  
  
"Why, Xellos? Why did you not carry out your threat?" Maybe she was playing with fire. Maybe he would decide to rectify that.   
  
Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing.  
  
No sooner did that thought occur to her did she remember the strong likelihood that she was no longer responsible for only her life. Unconsciously, her hand fluttered to her abdomen.  
  
He stayed silent, appearing to consider his reply. Then, Xellos smiled.  
  
"Sore wa himitsu desu."  
  
Filia almost snarled in frustration; the not knowing was maddening. Xellos was unfazed, closing his eyes in his signature smile.  
  
"Rest now, Miss Filia. Worry not about the unimportant things."  
  
"I consider that important."  
  
"Silly dragon. I will determine something's importance, not you. Rest." With that, he bowed slightly, turning away, terminating the discussion.  
  
Filia watched him walk away, then slipped into her bedroom, sighing heavily as she shut the door. Had the world ever truly seemed to be clear-cut black and white? Those days felt like a lifetime ago.  
  


* * *

  
It was dark when Filia awoke, and the small, solitary lamp that burned on her vanity table only served to amplify the shadows with its meager glow. When she rolled over in bed to stretch, she realized she was not alone.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Filia asked crossly, sitting up to glare at Xellos.  
  
He sat at her vanity, looking at an object in his hands, and the lamp glow caught on its surface with a sparkling effect as he turned it over repeatedly. At the sound of her voice, he closed his eyes, looking over to her with a far-too-pleasant smile. "Ah, Miss Filia, you're awake!"  
  
Filia's scowl deepened, and she repeated her question.  
  
"I am merely watching over you while you sleep."  
  
"I don't need anyone watching over me," Filia snapped, kicking away the heavy quilts to swing her legs over the bed.  
  
"No?" Something in his tone seemed to dare her to challenge that. "You seemed to need it when the other one lived here."  
  
The other one. Valgaav. Filia's heart constricted painfully. "He didn't stay in my bedroom."  
  
"Tsk, Miss Filia. I would have thought lying was beneath you." He shrugged slightly, turning away from her dismissively. "But then again, you _are_ a Golden Dragon, after all."  
  
The entire room seemed to be draped in a thin, red veil briefly as she stared at Xellos, enraged beyond the capacity of speech or even movement. She trembled, shuddering violently as she struggled to breathe, the exhalation of air forming a low, lethal growl.  
  
"How _dare_ you?" she hissed once she was able to form words. If one could commit murder with mere looks alone, Xellos would have died a satisfyingly horrible death.  
  
Xellos looked at her calmly, almost blasé in his attitude. "Now, Miss Filia, there's simply no reason to get upset. All I did was point out a simple fact. You lied, as your now-dead clan is well-known to do. If you wish to avoid such an unseemly comparison, I would suggest avoiding unseemly behavior."  
  
"I did not lie," Filia somehow managed to choke past her fury.  
  
"So that halfbreed spent not a single moment within this room while you slept?" One eye opened ever so slightly, his amethyst gaze penetrating.  
  
Filia's cheeks burned. "I never said that," she faltered, then struggled to regain the upper hand, changing the flow of the discussion. "But just because he did doesn't mean you have the right to do so!"  
  
Ever so slightly, Xellos' other eye opened. That irritating smile remained on his lips, but there was a harshness to it, to his entire expression and demeanor. Filia was too enraged to care at the moment that under his apparently calm surface simmered a temper equal to her own.   
  
"And why did he stay here?" he asked, his voice so soft Filia almost had to strain to hear him.  
  
Filia stared at him. "Because of you."  
  
Xellos smiled, but there was something chilling in his expression. "Because I am so dangerous, hmm?"  
  
"Yes." Fear began to war with anger, and slowly gained ground.  
  
"Who was the one who brought harm upon you?"  
  
Filia couldn't bring herself to answer that question directly. "I'm not in danger now."  
  
"No? Why do you say that?"  
  
"He wouldn't harm me, not intentionally, and he's not here."  
  
"Do remember, Miss Filia, that we are discussing someone who very nearly destroyed our entire world. Do you not recall how he was? I would not have considered him to be a portrait of sanity."  
  
"He's not like that anymore," Filia argued, although her tone lacked the conviction she tried to convince herself that she felt. Xellos didn't even bother to reply to that beyond merely looking at her in silence. Filia broke the gaze first, looking at the floor.  
  
"I have no intention of seeing my little dragon fall to ill at the hands of others," Xellos said, and Filia reflexively bristled.  
  
"For the last time, I am _not_ your little dragon!"  
  
Xellos merely smiled at that. "And while we're on that topic, it would be wise for you to dispose of this." He held up the object which he had been studying, and Filia's chest tightened.  
  
It was the jeweled barrette Valgaav had bought for her, the first gift he ever gave her. "Why?" Even to her own ears, the word sounded more like a soft moan of pain.  
  
"Oh, Miss Filia." Xellos shook his head. "Look at yourself right now. Must you even ask? It is quite obvious that any mention of him brings you anguish."  
  
"I thought you enjoyed that," Filia whispered bitterly.  
  
"As I said, I have no wish to see you come to harm at the hands of others. While he is gone in body, things still linger which cause him to remain here in spirit, still capable of inflicting hurt upon you." Xellos looked away from her, studying the barrette again. "Such a small, insignificant trinket."  
  
"It's also from Jillas," Filia whispered, recalling what Valgaav had said when she first thanked him for it.  
  
"Your loyal little fox has given you many other things. Come now, you have no need for this paltry little thing. If it makes you feel better, you can sell it and recover the money spent."  
  
Filia said nothing as she wrapped her arms around herself, staring miserably at the barrette. Xellos laid it back down on her vanity and stood, walking over to sit next to her on the bed.  
  
"I know how dragons can be. If you would miss this for the mere sake of the trinket..." Xellos trailed off, pressing his hands together. Filia looked to him, then gasped as he parted his hands, revealing what he now held. "I can give you this, and more. Everything you desire."  
  
He held a new barrette, and it looked almost to be of Elvish design. The golden metal curled in a exquisite pattern, almost as if the metal itself had been fashioned into dainty threads and woven together. Nestled in the delicate curls were tiny flowers and butterflies, adorned and decorated with brilliant chips of amethyst and sapphire.  
  
"Now this," he held it up to the light, smiling in satisfaction, "this is a suitable match for your beauty. Much better than that little trinket."  
  
"Where did you get that?" Filia asked, her voice a breathy whisper.  
  
"Sore wa himitsu desu." He held it out to her, but snatched it back as she reached for it. "As I said, this -- and more -- can be yours. But only under one condition."  
  
"What?"  
  
"That you begin to part ways with the past. Let go of the things which would bring you pain to look upon." He looked to the barrette on her vanity table. "Such as that."  
  
Filia felt torn. In some ways, there was a logic to what he said which she couldn't seem to argue. But to discard that barrette... It felt almost like treason. "I..." Her voice cracked and her vision suddenly blurred almost to blindness before hot tears splashed down her cheeks. "I need to think about it..." Filia looked at him, and Xellos' expression was cross. "Please?"  
  
He was not thrilled with her answer, and it showed in his curt motions as he tossed the barrette he held up into the air, letting it disappear. "Very well." His tone was short.  
  
Filia wondered why she felt guilty. She couldn't possibly hurt a Mazoku's feelings. They had not feelings to hurt. "It's just all so sudden," she whispered.  
  
"Well, to avoid any more of this 'suddenness'," Xellos said as he stood, and there was something in his tone that leaned toward mocking, "you should be aware that discarding the past would also require disposing of his personal effects, such as his clothes. I'm certain that some of the less fortunate in your village would find them welcome."  
  
"You want me to get rid of all traces of him, don't you?" Filia said brokenly, her voice reflecting the cracks in her heart.  
  
Xellos gave her his trademark, infuriatingly pleasant smile. "Very astute of you, little dragon." Before she could say another word, he vanished.  
  
Feeling shell-shocked, Filia remained sitting on the edge of her bed, rocking back and forth slightly, hugging herself. She wasn't ready for that level of finality, the symbolic closing of that door, the end of that chapter to her life. Closing her eyes, Filia recalled his smile, his tenderness, everything about him, and her heart felt raw and bleeding.  
  
She didn't want to let him go.  
  
"Sweet Cephied," she whispered, laying on her side on the bed. "What do I do?"  
  
Then the grief collapsed under a sudden, powerful surge of icy fear, and she wrapped her arms over her abdomen protectively, curling into fetal position. If she _was_ carrying Valgaav's child...what would Xellos do?  
  
Her thoughts were too jumbled, her emotions too erratic, for her mind to harbor anything but blankness. Filia stared at the wall, concentrating only on breathing for what felt like hours.  
  
Gradually, a course of action began to form. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but the only thing she _could_ do. As she tried to sort out the details, she saw the huge, gaping holes in her plan. Everything depended on an element of 'if'.   
  
And if a single one of those 'if' factors fell through, so would the whole scheme. The more she tried to find another way, the more obvious it became that there was no other way. She would have to play with high stakes, and it would be winner take all. But how could anyone win against that Mazoku? Filia had to win. It was that simple. There was no room for maybe. The life of her child depended on it. _Cephied, if I ever succeed at anything, please, let me have this._  
  


_to be continued..._

  



	7. Chapter 7

**Note to Readers:** You may want to make sure you have a hanky on hand. ::cackles in evil glee::  
~ Zanne  
  


**All Through the Night**  
Chapter Seven

  
  
Filia did not leave her room until morning. From time to time she caught brief spurts of fitful sleep, but for the most part, her mind was far too active to allow her to rest. Every detail had to be carefully balanced, or everything was at risk of falling through.  
  
She needed to make her emotions in this believable. She needed the freedom to send Jillas and Gravos away when the time came, without risk of Xellos tracking them down to ensure they weren't trying to find Valgaav. Filia decided then that she couldn't afford to tell them what she was doing. She had to, eventually, when the right time came, but as long as they honestly believed what she was going to attempt...so much the better.  
  
Their belief, the honesty of their emotions, that would have to be a factor in helping to carry out her plans. It would also allow for a believable reason for them to depart.  
  
Soon, she would put things into action. The sun was starting to creep over the horizon, the deep, dark blue of the sky giving way to a paler lavender as Filia watched, feeling detached from everything. She hated what she would have to do, hated herself for it. Filia lay her head against the windowframe, silently pleading with Valgaav, wherever he was, that he would understand what she was doing, and why.  
  
It was time.  
  
Everyone looked to the doorway as Filia entered the kitchen, and Jillas immediately hurried to her side. "Oneesan! Are you okay? You look terrible."  
  
Filia had seen her refection in her bedroom mirror while dressing, and knew he wasn't exaggerating. Her skin had an unhealthy pallor, and dark smudges blackened her eyes. "I didn't sleep well at all last night," Filia replied quietly, her voice a bit hoarse with fatigue. "I had a great deal on my mind." Coat the lie in as much truth as she could, that was the ticket. Make it easier to swallow.  
  
Xellos said nothing from his place by the wall, standing calmly, one hand resting on his staff. His eyes were closed, his expression impassive as he watched Filia. She glanced to him, giving him a slight, exhausted nod of acknowledgment. One dark eyebrow arched past his bangs briefly.  
  
"Come here, sit down," Jillas said, guiding her to a chair. "Just take it easy, oneesan. You push yourself too hard. I'll get your tea."  
  
"Want some breakfast, boss?" Gravos asked.  
  
"Please?" Filia rested her head against her hand, closing her eyes for a few moments. All too soon, she knew she would reach the point of no return. Even knowing it was necessary, she dreaded it all the same.  
  
"Silly little dragon," Xellos said, his tone not unkind as he teleported into the chair beside Filia. Her tired, frayed nerves were not expecting that, and they jangled painfully in shock as she jumped.   
  
Filia couldn't keep from shooting him a glare. "Don't do that."  
  
Xellos merely smiled. "I told you I would decide what is worth worrying about. You really should take better care of yourself, silly, stubborn dragon."  
  
Point of no return.  
  
"It _was_ something you had decided to be worth the worry," Filia replied, letting her tone remain annoyed as she rested her forehead in the palm of her hand again. Stay as true to her nature as possible. Keep things as truthful as she could. Above all, _believe_ in what she was saying.  
  
Xellos' tone vaguely hinted at surprise. "Oh?"  
  
"I...I can't keep holding onto the past," Filia said quietly as Gravos put a bowl of stew before her. She reached for the freshly poured cup of tea and took a sip before glancing to Xellos. His eyes were open now, and he was watching her with an intense interest. Filia tried to fight down the twinge of fear at that intensity, and looked back down. "You...you're right."  
  
"Am I now." His tone was silky smooth, and did not end with the inflection a question normally had.  
  
_Please, Cephied!_   
  
"Oneesan, what are you saying?"  
  
"He...he's gone, Jillas. We tried a life together, it didn't work. I need to move on."  
  
Both Jillas and Gravos went stone still, staring at her. She didn't even have to be Mazoku to pick up on some of their emotions; so plain they were on their faces. Shock, disbelief, betrayal, pain.  
  
Xellos, on the other hand... The corners of his mouth turned upward ever so slightly, so slightly it was barely noticeable. Just the faintest hint of a smirk.  
  
"I'm so glad you're willing to listen to reason!" he said cheerfully, and Filia fought to keep from flinching as his shrill voice grated against her already raw nerves.  
  
_Valgaav, I love you! I always will. Forgive me, please..._ Filia looked to her two stunned servants. "If one of you has the time," she said wearily, "would either of you bundle up the clothes he left behind? I'm sure there's others who would have need of them through the winter."  
  
"Yer gittin' rid of his stuff?" Gravos asked gruffly, the expression in his remaining eye growing a bit chilly.  
  
"He's not coming back, Gravos," Filia replied, looking into her teacup, taking a sip. Then she looked to Jillas. "I have some things I wish to sell. I'm sure the sum will be of good use to us to make it through the winter."  
  
Jillas' expression, while not as cold as Gravos', was still guarded, wary. "Of course." He hesitated. "What are they?"  
  
Wordlessly, Filia withdrew several things from her apron pocket, laying them on the table, trying not to flinch when she heard Jillas' shocked gasp. It was the barrette, as well as several other little things Valgaav had purchased for her.  
  
She didn't need to look at Xellos to know he was smiling gleefully.  
  
Gravos made a disgusted sound, tossing the wooden spoon he had been using to stir the pot of stew onto the counter. Filia jumped slightly at the clattering, and fought to breathe past the lump in her throat as he stalked out the back door.  
  
"Jillas, if you would, please take these to--"  
  
"I'll do it, Miss Filia." She winced at the eager cheer in Xellos' tone. "Don't look so troubled, you're doing the right thing."  
  
Jillas stayed silent, just watching them.  
  
"Thank you, Mister Xellos," Filia murmured, and tried to keep her hands from trembling as she gathered up the jewelry, and placed them in his outstretched, gloved hand. "Please make sure I get a fair price for them. We need the money."  
  
"Of course! Worry not, Miss Filia. All will be fine." He patted her head as he stood, and picked up his staff, teleporting out.  
  
It took self-control Filia didn't know she had until that point not to completely break down sobbing.  
  
Jillas didn't move for a moment, then wordlessly walked over to where Gravos threw the spoon, and began to wipe up the splatters of stew. Now was a good time as any. She couldn't level with Jillas, but she hoped he would at least still help her. Filia stood, willing her knees not to give way, and withdrew two pieces of paper from her other pocket as she approached him.  
  
"Jillas, there are two things which I need for you to do for me."  
  
"What are they?" He didn't look at her.  
  
Filia studied him. "Actually, make that three."  
  
"What?"  
  
"The first is, please, trust me. I can't tell you what I'm doing, but trust me. For all the time you've known me, _please_ trust me," she pleaded softly.  
  
Jillas looked at her, still guarded and closed. Finally he nodded. "All right. What else?"  
  
She handed him the first piece of paper. "Could you deliver that to Missus Brucks? Pay for it out of the money from the sale of the jewels."  
  
Jillas took it from her, looking it over. "The rug-weaver lady?"  
  
"Yes." She handed over the second. "The final favor, I need for you to build this, but to..." Filia trailed off, searching for the right way to phrase it. "But to not be obvious about it either."  
  
He glanced up at her solemnly out of the corner of his eye, and looked at the sketch she made, studying the notes. Jillas frowned in confusion. "What is this? You want a wagon you can keep a fire going in?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Jillas continued to look it over for a few more minutes, then his ears twitched. His gaze, wide and bright with a look of surprised comprehension, snapped up to meet hers.  
  
Ever so slightly, Filia nodded.  
  
Jillas gave her a grim smile, then the darkly guarded look he had before was back. "I'll see what I can work out."  
  
"Use the remainder of the money to pay for it." Filia lowered her voice. "Use the Seyruun crest to pay for the balance, and also, purchase an ox. They're at the best price now anyway, I think."  
  
"Yeah. The ones that haven't had a good year with crops will sometimes sell the livestock for the winter. One less mouth to feed when the snows come."  
  
Filia squeezed his shoulder in gratitude, and bent low to his ear. "Stay angry," she murmured. "That's critical to this." Jillas glanced at her, then nodded slightly.  
  
The first steps were well underway.  
  


* * *

  
Sleep only worked for bringing oblivion for a short while. Then the nightmares always began. Merry-mad jumbles of memories and fears that left him upon waking feeling weak and miserable. Accusations. Blood. Loss. Pain. Grief. Guilt. All those and more blended into a demented kaleidoscope whenever he slept.  
  
Although Valgaav was awake, he did not open his eyes or move. The guilt was the worse, compounded by the low-burning rage and indignation. He had no right to those feelings, from all the evidence on hand.  
  
He _couldn't_ have harmed Filia like that. He didn't want to believe it, and it didn't ring true. But yet, all the evidence pointed in the opposite direction. He felt betrayed, yet everything suggested that he was the one who had done the betraying. That was why he tried to sleep, to escape the neverending, vicious circle of thought.  
  
If only he could remember, then maybe he could find some escape.  
  
There was another route of escape, and one he had been contemplating with increasing frequency as the days dragged into weeks, and the weeks into months. He didn't even need to take an active hand, just remain still and wait for it to come. He wasn't Mazoku anymore. He needed to eat.  
  
But something kept him moving, striving. When he didn't want to keep trying, subtle reminders would drift through his mind, and lethargy would become action. Filia had used some of her own life energy to save his own. Even after all he had done, forcing her to open the gateway to bring in the destruction of their world, she still sacrificed for him.  
  
He couldn't allow himself to throw that away. No, death was a release. If he had harmed her, even after all she had given him, then he didn't deserve such a release.  
  
"Such a rich banquet. I really must thank you for a fine meal."  
  
Valgaav's head snapped up, his eyes opening quickly as his lip curled back from his fangs in a deep snarl at the cheerful voice. The surge of hatred he felt was almost paralyzing as he watched a familiar figure step out of the shadows.  
  
"Get out," Valgaav growled, quivering in fury.  
  
"Oh, don't worry, I don't plan to linger in your presence. I can only tolerate looking at you for so long," Xellos replied, smirking smugly. His closed eyes opened to slits.  
  
Rational thought and reason were quickly fleeing under the pressing weight of dragonrage. Valgaav dug his talons into the rocky floor of the cavern, and it crumbled beneath his grip. He pushed himself to his feet, his head low, his wings flared threateningly.  
  
He snarled loudly in fury, the sound reverberating off the walls as Xellos laughed in amusement.  
  
"You presume to think you pose a threat to me?" Xellos said, and continued laughing. "You fool. You never posed a threat to me even as a Mazoku, and look at you now, just a dragon. I could crush you without even any effort!"  
  
"But that would require expending power all the same," Valgaav murmured, his voice low and deep from the effort of keeping himself under some semblance of control. "And for that, you require permission."  
  
"How do you know I don't have it?" Xellos asked.  
  
"Because you're not doing a thing."  
  
"Because you're much more fun alive and miserable," Xellos countered, and grinned gleefully.  
  
Valgaav hissed, and his growl bordered on becoming a roar. "What do you want?"  
  
"Just to deliver a present." Xellos' eyes were wide open, and he grinned in malicious delight as he flung a small object at Valgaav's feet.  
  
Valgaav recoiled slightly on reflex, expecting a trick, and something glittered dully in the faint light. As his eyes focused on it, the realization of what it was hit him like a giga slave.  
  
It was the barrette he had given Filia.  
  
"What have you done to her?" Valgaav snapped, glaring murderously at Xellos. "If you've killed her--"  
  
Xellos snorted. "Killed her? Hardly. As it is, that barrette is her own doing. She wants you out of her life."  
  
Of all the blows Xellos could have delivered, that one was the worst. It felt like everything in his chest had just been ripped to shreds. "What?"  
  
"You heard me." Xellos grinned, his voice irritatingly cheerful.  
  
"I'm already out of her life," Valgaav murmured, growling softly. The rage was dying down, unable to stay afloat under the pain crashing over him.  
  
"Not completely. She's getting rid of your clothes, everything that belonged to you, and she's sold off all the cheep little trinkets you tried to buy her off with." Xellos was clearly enjoying himself. "I just thought you might like that little toy back."  
  
"Get out." His voice was low, rough and husky. Granite cracked into gravel under his talons.  
  
"But of course." Xellos bowed mockingly, and grinned. "Miss Filia is expecting me back."  
  
Valgaav stared at him, wishing an eternity of dying over and over again in all the most painful ways fathomable on Xellos. He shouldn't ask. He didn't want to know. But yet...he had to. "She knows you're here?"  
  
"She sent me to dispose of these things." He gestured his hand toward the barrette, and grinned viciously. "My little dragon has chosen me over you."  
  
Something in him snapped, and he snarled in fury, striking at the floor, sending a spray of broken granite along with the barrette at Xellos, who easily shielded himself. "GET OUT!"  
  
Xellos laughed, and bowed again. "And a good day to you, too."  
  
Valgaav stared at the empty shadows for countless long minutes after the Mazoku priest vanished, trembling under the sheer force of the tumultuous emotions. Damn him. Damn them. Damn them all, and damn _her_. How could she do this? _Why_?  
  
Oh, he knew why. He couldn't _remember_ it, but he knew just the same. He'd hurt her one time too many, and it was for the best that she got on with her life. She was still so very young.  
  
But could she have really gotten over him _that_ quickly? How long had it been? He'd lost track. Three months? More?  
  
Had she ever really loved him at all?  
  
Snarling in wounded fury, he struck out against the cavern walls, his talons biting deep into the rock. A _Mazoku_? She chose one who murdered her own people over him? A bitter, deep laugh welled up inside him.  
  
Wasn't that essentially what he had done with her? Chosen to mate to one of the race which had left him utterly alone?  
  
It made sense, all of it. At least to his mind, among the last few relics of logic that hung on. It was incomprehensible to his heart. Everything was wrong.  
  
Suddenly, he stopped pacing as his gaze landed on the barrette again. The fury fled, leaving behind only a bone-deep apathy that robbed whatever strength he possessed. Valgaav's legs gave way, and he collapsed on the floor of the cave, curling into a ball, covering his head with a wing.  
  
And, for the first time since the Massacre, he wept.  
  


_to be continued..._

  



	8. Chapter 8

**Note to Readers:** I am **so** sorry it has taken me this absurdly excessive amount of time to get this chapter out. Gomen! Forgive me!  
~ Zanne  
  


**All Through the Night**  
Chapter Eight

  
  
Supper had been a trying ordeal. Xellos was still absent, and Gravos refused to sit at the table, let alone acknowledge her. Filia had known it would be difficult, but nothing prepared her for the reality. The disgust and loathing in Gravos' eyes during the rare times when he did look at her nearly shattered her resolve. Filia wanted nothing more than to pour her heart out and tell him the truth, but she couldn't.  
  
Even though she knew Jillas understood, at least somewhat, and that the act he put forth was very likely just that, it was heartbreaking. He dropped the 'oneesan' from his speech entirely, and never said her name at all. She retreated to the living room after the dishes were cleared, and fought to find solace in the scraps of fabric on her lap as she pieced them together in a patchwork quilt. The house was relatively silent save for the crackling fire; the two servants had retired to their room in the attic, and she heard nothing more from them.  
  
"I must say--"  
  
Filia jumped at the sudden voice, and the sewing needle jabbed into her fingertip. She yelped and winced, dropping the needle on the quilt and clutched the wounded finger as she looked over in Xellos' direction.  
  
"Oh, dear. You seem to have injured yourself." He shook his head, making a clucking sound with his tongue. "Silly, clumsy Dragon."  
  
"You startled me," Filia protested. He stepped over and took her hand, inspecting the pinprick. It was still bleeding just enough to form a tiny red pearl on her finger, and he opened his eyes ever so slightly, meeting her gaze. He held her eyes with his own, and she shivered. Whether it was from fear or revulsion or something else entirely, she couldn't say.  
  
Xellos lifted her hand, and slowly dragged the tip of his tongue against her finger, over the minuscule puncture wound. The touch was surprisingly cool and dry, as Filia observed with surprise, her logical mind feeling detached from the events. It was difficult to breathe, and she swallowed hard.  
  
"I must say you surprised me this morning," he purred quietly, not breaking his gaze from her own, brushing his cool lips against her finger as he spoke. A chill raced down her spine, but it wasn't an entirely unpleasant sensation.  
  
"Why?" Her own voice sounded thick and soft in her ears. "It was what you wanted."  
  
"Hmm." He lazily traced her fingertip with his tongue, coaxing it past his lips just a fraction, barely enough to suck on the tip for the briefest of moments. "Which is precisely why, Miss Filia. You're becoming quite agreeable."  
  
Her nerves were on fire from both the sensations and fear. "You want me to be otherwise?"  
  
"Not at all, no." He drew back from her finger, but still held her hand, tracing lazy, feather-soft circles on her inner wrist with his fingers. "I said it was a surprise, Miss Filia. I did not say it was an unpleasant one."  
  
"Oh," was all she could think to say. Filia managed to break their gaze and looked to the floor; he released her hand and stepped back.  
  
"Do not feel too badly for what you have done," he said, circling her chair and moving behind her. Filia remained motionless. "It was necessary, and you will be the better for it."  
  
She growled on reflex as his hands came around the chair, moving to her shoulders, and hinted at encircling her neck. The fingers around the base tightened, but in a gentle, flexing motion as he started to massage her neck.  
  
"Shh, Miss Filia," he said, not letting up on the kneading motion. "You have had a trying time as of late. Just relax."  
  
She closed her eyes, trying to keep a grip on the tension which was slowly escaping under his fingertips. "Why are you doing this?" she breathed.  
  
"Because I want to," he replied simply. He released her shoulders to move to her side, sitting on the arm of the chair. Filia shot him a wary glance, which he returned with a small smile, and remained still as he moved her long hair aside.  
  
"What are you up to, Xellos?" Filia said, her tone low and husky as his hands returned to her neck.  
  
"Tsk, Miss Filia. There is no reason to be so paranoid. I told you, I'm here to take care of you."  
  
"I can't figure you out," she murmured, closing her eyes. When several long moments passed by and he still had not replied, she chanced a look up at him. His eyes were closed as usual, and his expression was unreadable, with the barest hint of an enigmatic smile tugging at his lips. Filia looked down to her hands clasped on her lap as a tsunami of fatigued grief threatened to crash down on her. She didn't know how much more she could take.  
  
She still loved him, and she still missed him so desperately, ever fibre of her being ached to see him again, to just hear his voice. A ragged breath escaped her lips, and she buried her face in her hands, crying quietly. Xellos' hands left her neck, and she felt him touch her head, the contact soft and light, as he stroked her hair.  
  
Part of her wanted to scream at him, to rip into him with all the power behind her emotions, and part of her was desperate not to be left alone to drown. In the end, she did nothing, and it was Xellos who made the first move, taking away the quilt she had been stitching, and sliding his arms under her, picking her up.  
  
Filia knew she should scream at him, that she had every right to do so, but instead she kept her face buried against her hands, trying not to let the tears overtake her completely. He set her down on the couch, and joined her, gently guiding her down to recline with her head on a pillow on his lap. A blanket was pulled over her, and when she felt his hand gently soothing her hair back, she lost it.  
  
With a low, pained wail, she rolled over to face him, clinging to him, sobbing hysterically. She didn't care who it was anymore; she was just too tired of the pain.  
  
"I miss him," she admitted, hiccuping between sobs. "I miss him so much it feels like I can't even breathe. But..."  
  
Xellos continued stroking her hair, keeping an arm behind her back firmly. "But what?" he prompted.  
  
"But I don't want to think that you might be right."  
  
"Yes, I know. You feel guilty, thinking such a thing, hmm?"  
  
Sobbing harder, she nodded.  
  
"That's to be expected. Your kind generally mates for life, and you did, after all, make the foolish choice of picking him as a mate. You feel betrayed by him, torn apart that your mate could and would willfully bring harm upon you."  
  
Filia started to protest, but the words died in her throat. A bone-deep chill sank into her and shuddered up her spine. Was that what she was feeling? At least in part? The terrifying thing was that she was no longer certain. She felt him pull the blanket up higher over her shoulders.  
  
"This too will pass in time. I will always be here, and you shall not be harmed," Xellos continued.  
  
Filia felt bewildered, trying to sort out up from down. The truth of everything was growing more and more obscure, clouded over in shades of gray. All she wanted was for everything to be okay again, and she didn't know how to get there. He sounded so logical, so reasonable; a buoy on the ocean she could cling to for survival. Right and wrong no longer made sense.  
  
"Just rest, Miss Filia," he said quietly, stroking her hair. "You are overwrought from fatigue, and it is quite understandable. Rest. You are not alone."  
  
But the last thought in her mind before sleep finally overtook her was that wherever he was, Valgaav _was_ alone. Again.  
  


* * *

  
The strong winds were hot and acrid, causing her hair to snake against her like dozens of tiny, sharp whips. She could smell blood and fire, and the billowing sand burned at her eyes. He stood before her, towering high above boulders that jutted forth from the ground, his massive feathered wings flaring out behind him. In his hand, he held the balance of life and death, and his eyes were strangely impassive.  
  
She reached out to him, trying to climb the rock, only to be hindered by the wind and sand. "Stop it, please! Come back!"  
  
His amber eyes met her own, and she shuddered at the blank indifference. "Why should I?"  
  
"I love you! Valgaav, please stop, please come back! I need you!"  
  
He crouched, resting his arms on his knees, and folded one wing around himself, brushing her face gently with the feathers. Filia sobbed and nuzzled the wing.  
  
"It's always about you, isn't it, Golden?" he asked, in a surprisingly gentle voice.  
  
"Valgaav..."  
  
"A Golden Dragon has no concept of love." He crouched closer to her, reaching down, gently brushing the tears off her cheeks. "I thought you were different, Filia. I thought you weren't like them. But you are, aren't you?"  
  
She moaned, pressing her face against his palm as she sobbed. "I'm not, Valgaav, really, I'm not! I do love you! I do!"  
  
"Of course you do." His tone was gentle, but patronizing. "Will you prove you love me?"  
  
"What? Valgaav, yes, of course! I'll do anything?"  
  
"Anything?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
Faster than she could blink, he swooped down behind her and seized her arms, spinning them both around. They were back in the gateway, and he wrapped her hands around the blade's handle. "Then end the world."  
  
"Valgaav, I--"  
  
His grip became impossibly tight, and she screamed in pain. "You said you'd do anything!" he shouted, and forced her to plunge the Dark Star weapon into its place, opening the portal, summoning the crazed dark lord. "You're just like everyone else! Just like all of them!"  
  
He shoved her away and she fell over the edge. The floor seemed to disappear into blackness, and she kept falling, never hitting bottom. Arms wrapped around her and her descent was gradually halted. She opened her eyes to find Xellos holding her, and heard rocks clattering.  
  
"Do what you need to do, Miss Filia."  
  
"What is that? I don't know!"  
  
"Yes, you do. Open your hand."  
  
She looked to her hand and saw she was holding the barrette from Valgaav. It was burning her flesh, but not leaving any mark behind. As she watched it glimmer in the dim light, she knew what she had to do.  
  
"I'll do it."  
  
"That's the Dragon I know."  
  
She was standing now, overlook a field of death, littered with corpses of both past and present, and watching Valgaav fly toward her, leaving behind nothingness in his wake. Filia gripped the barrette tightly, then flung it at him, watching as it traveled toward him, striking him in the chest.  
  
He landed at her feet in a pool of blood, looking up at her with eyes full of betrayal. "Filia... I thought you loved me..." His gaze drifted down to her side, and she felt a tiny hand grip her own. Startled, she looked down to see a little green-haired, blue-eyed child staring up at her.  
  
"Mommy, why did you kill Daddy?"  
  
Filia struggled to sit up, screaming and kicking at the blankets holding her down. The fire had burned down to embers, and the living room was dim. She sucked down ragged, winded gasps, and shuddered as the cold air touched her sweat-covered skin.  
  
"Are you all right, Miss Filia?"  
  
She looked at Xellos, seated next to her on the couch, and started to shake her head, doubling over in a wave of nausea. "Leave... leave me alone... please..." she whimpered, rocking back and forth, hugging herself tightly.  
  
_Cephied, gods, it hurts, make it stop._ It felt like a Giga Slave had been unleashed inside her heart. What was she doing? What had she done?  
  
"It was merely a nightmare, Miss Filia. Nothing to worry about."  
  
She looked to him, keeping a trembling hand pressed tightly to her mouth. She couldn't stop shaking.  
  
He reached out and brushed a damp lock of hair back from her face. "Do you need to talk about it?"  
  
It was on the tip of her tongue to spill it out, to tell him everything, to tell _somebody_ everything, just to try to ease some of the weight on her own shoulders. But she shook her head mutely, still trying to get her breathing back to normal.  
  
"Would you like some tea?"  
  
"Why are you so nice to me?" she managed to choke out.  
  
Xellos raised his eyebrows slightly in surprise. "I suppose because I want to be."  
  
"You know I hate you, right?"  
  
One eye cracked open as his lips curled into a faint smirk. "And you're certain you hate me?"  
  
"Of course I... am..." She trailed off, the uncertainty in her tone painfully obvious even to her own ears. "Just... please make me tea..." He smirked and stood. "And damn you for confusing me."  
  
Xellos bent down close to her, resting his cheek against hers, his lips near her ears. "Are you so certain it is I who is confusing you, and not you yourself?" he asked softly as he brushed a hand down her hair. She stared at him as he drew back, feeling as though she was perhaps just a half-step away from going stark raving mad.  
  
Nothing made sense anymore.  
  


* * *

  
The smell of frying bacon roused Filia and she stretched, wincing a bit at the stiffness in her neck. She didn't have much room for that, curled up on the sofa, her head on a pillow on someone's lap. A gentle hand was stroking her hair, and still half-asleep, she purred, nuzzling closer. "Valgaav," she murmured, and then froze a split second later, almost before the hand on her head abruptly ceased its ministrations. Icy fear flooded her as she recalled everything, too little too late.  
  
Xellos shoved her away into a sitting position, the force of it almost violently rough, and stood. His eyes were closed and that annoyingly cheerful smile was firmly in place. Filia eyed him warily; the tension in that smile was obvious even to her.  
  
"Good morning, Miss Filia," he chirped, his voice deliberately irritating and rather grating on her nerves. "It would seem that you slept _very_ well indeed."  
  
"I'm sorry," she stammered hoarsely. "It's still all so--"  
  
"I believe your servants are preparing breakfast," he interrupted, cutting her apology short. "Do you think that for once, you might manage to actually eat something?"  
  
"I..." No, she couldn't _try_ to eat. She had to. Someone else was depending on her for that now. "Yes."  
  
"Good." His tone was clipped, almost bordering on a snap, and then he vanished before she could say anything more.  
  
The smell of bacon made her stomach tighten in protest, and she clasped her trembling hands together tightly, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions. On one hand, she missed Valgaav desperately, and loathed Xellos with a blinding passion. On the other, she felt as though she had seen a side to him she never before knew was there, and was it possible somehow that he actually did care for her? That notion seemed fantastically absurd, but there it was. And his actions just now... she felt guilty. He acted almost hurt by her slip of tongue.  
  
Underneath it all was the fear of the whole situation. A fear that would not go away, or even diminish for so much as a moment.  
  
She had to do better.  
  
Filia could see Gravos eating breakfast in the backyard when she entered the kitchen. Jillas was standing at the fireplace, scooping up a plate of food for her, and Xellos sat at the table, sipping tea.  
  
"Good morning, Jillas," she said quietly.  
  
He shoved the plate in her direction. "Your breakfast." His tone was short, and snapped like a whip over her psyche. Was this an act, or was he truly mad? She didn't dare ask.  
  
Feeling crushed, she sat down at the table beside Xellos, and forced herself to begin eating.  
  
"I do believe that perhaps I should pay Lord Beastmaster a visit," Xellos said calmly, and Filia glanced at him.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"It might be wise to ask if she could spare my time for a bit longer, a vacation, as it were. I am rather hesitant to leave your side."  
  
Filia almost choked on her food, and coughed, grabbing her tea. Everything in her plans depended on her either getting away from Xellos, or Xellos leaving, when the time came to lay the egg.  
  
"Are you quite all right?"  
  
She nodded, still coughing. "Why?" she managed to gasp.  
  
"Well, you appear to be in distress and choking on your food."  
  
Filia shook her head. "Why ask for a vacation?"  
  
"Oh. That." He sat back, studying her. "You are in a terrible frame of mind, and I would hate to see any ill befall you, as I have said. You really shouldn't be alone now."  
  
"Don't do that," Filia begged, trying to hold in her panic. "I'll be better, I promise. I was just tired last night, and it was all weighing down on me. I'm better this morning, I swear!"  
  
"Why, Miss Filia, if I didn't know any better, I would think you were trying to get rid of me." One eye cracked open slightly.  
  
Filia swallowed hard, and was keenly aware of Jillas in the corner, tending to cleaning up the mess of food preparation, listening to them. "No, no, it's not that..."  
  
"You seem almost frightened at the thought."  
  
She shook her head vigorously. "No, it's just, maybe you shouldn't make such a request, she might be upset."  
  
"And since when would that matter to you?"  
  
"She might take it out on me, or..." Filia saw a chance to try and mend her earlier mistake. She stood from her chair, moving to his side, placing her hands on his shoulder. She summoned up all of her confused emotions, forcing them to the front and into her words. "Or she might take it out on you, and I couldn't bear to lose you too!"  
  
Her vision blurred over briefly as tears formed and fell, and Xellos glanced up at her, his eyes opening slightly in surprise. "Miss Filia..."  
  
"I mean it." She crouched by his chair, gripping his arm, looking up at him, summoning up all of her desperate, deep fear and loneliness. "Please don't take that risk, please!" she begged.  
  
He seemed almost bemused. "And here I thought you hated me."  
  
"I don't know _what_ I feel," Filia admitted. Keep the lie hidden in the truth. "I just can't be alone. I'd rather deal with you gone for a little bit than forever, please!"  
  
Xellos remained silent for a moment, watching her. Then he closed his eyes, lifting his hand to brush back her hair. A rather self-satisfied smile, like a cat that just helped himself to a pint of cream, curled his lips. "Very well, Miss Filia. If it means that much to you, I shall refrain from doing so."  
  
She rested her forehead on his leg with a quiet sob of relief. The relief was genuine as she released the iron grip she kept on her darker emotions, feeling them retreat, letting her have a brief respite.  
  
A sharp snarl, followed immediately thereafter by a loud clattering, cut into her, and she looked up. Gravos stood in the kitchen doorway, his lips curled back, glaring at her, baring her fangs.  
  
"I don't believe this!" he snapped. "You disgust me." With another snarl, he turned on his heel and stalked off.  
  
Jillas put the fragments of the wooden bowl Gravos threw onto the counter, and vaulted the closed bottom half of the dutch door, giving chase. "Boss! Wait!"  
  
Filia just stared at the door until her vision blurred so much it was just a mottled swirl of color. A low, shuddering moan escaped her as she shut her eyes, hot tears spilling down her cheeks.  
  
"Shh, Miss Filia." Strong hands gripped her shoulders, gently pulling her up, pulling her over to sit on his lap. A gloved hand brushed her cheek, wiping away the tears. "It is not within your control what he thinks. His loyalty is blinded. But you are making the right choice for yourself."  
  
"Oh, Xellos," she whimpered, laying her head on his shoulder.  
  
"Do try to finish your breakfast, though," he said. "You need your strength."  
  
Filia nodded, pushing away after a moment, and he released her, letting her return to her own chair.  
  
"Would you care for some more tea?" he asked.  
  
"Please?"  
  
"Certainly, Miss Filia." He poured her another cup, then refilled his own. "All this stress isn't good on your nerves. You really must take better care of yourself."  
  
"I know," she murmured, forcing another mouthful. She chewed and swallowed. "I'm trying." Filia cast a sidelong gaze at him. "So please don't make such a request to your lord. I could do without the added strain of worrying about you."  
  
Xellos smirked faintly. "Very well then, Miss Filia."  
  
She worried about him, all right. She worried that he would be here at the wrong time. She worried he would find her out. She worried he would kill them all.  
  
She worried that if she kept acting for too long, she'd no longer be able to see the line between black and white. As it were, it was already blurring into an indiscriminate gray.  
  
She worried that she was slowly losing her hate for the Mazoku seated next to her.  
  


_to be continued..._

  



	9. Chapter 9

**Note to Readers:** This had a delay not so much due to lack of muse as lack of time this time around. My Slayers site has been moved to a new domain. Please update your links and bookmarks and point them toward slayers.fanficnetwork.com, thanks!  
~ Zanne  
  


**All Through the Night**  
Chapter Nine

  
  
"Boss!" Jillas scampered after the taller beast, whose strides had lengthened. "Wait!"  
  
Gravos paused and turned around, looking at him. "What?"  
  
"You can't go," Jillas said, catching up with him, grabbing his arm.  
  
Gravos jerked it away. "Oh, yeah? Watch me."  
  
"You _can't_!" Jillas bit his tongue. He couldn't say too much.  
  
"You don't seriously expect me to stay there at that house after...that!" Gravos snapped, pointing back in the direction of the shop.  
  
"Boss, please..." Jillas frantically sought for something to say. "You owe him."  
  
Gravos' eye narrowed. "I owe _who_ what?"  
  
"Lord Valgaav. He told us to stay, he told us to take care of her."  
  
He just snorted in annoyance. "He didn't know she'd be fallin' over that--"  
  
"Which is why she needs now more than ever!" Jillas shot back. "Listen, do you trust me?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Do you?"  
  
"What're ya talkin' about? Of course I do, it's just that two-timin' little--"  
  
"Then stay." Jillas shook his head. "It's okay to hate her. It's probably for the better. But you can't go."  
  
"You ain't makin' any sense, ya screwy fox."  
  
"I know. I'm not making sense to me either, but what in this whole mess does make sense?"  
  
Gravos looked away, crossing his arms.  
  
"The most important thing to remember is that Lord Valgaav wanted us to stay. We owe him that much. We owe him our lives. If he wanted us to spend our lives here, then that's what we need to do."  
  
Gravos shook his head. "I need to get away, I don't know how much more I can take. She was even sleepin' with him this mornin' on the couch when I got up!"  
  
"Then we'll go away for a little bit. She wants an ox for the crops in the spring, and I've heard that there's some for sale in the next town. We can go there."  
  
"I don't know why I'm doin' this."  
  
"It's the right thing to do. Besides, _I_ still need you."  
  
"So leave."  
  
"I can't. I'm making something."  
  
"Another one of yer damned inventions?"  
  
"Something like that. I need you to forge the oven for it."  
  
"What're you talkin' about?"  
  
Jillas glanced around, then beckoned for Gravos to follow him, walking to the shed. "It's in here." He unlatched the door and opened it wide. Dim sunlight filtered in through the small window, and any light from the doorway was obscured as Gravos hunkered down his huge bulk to fit inside.  
  
"What is it? Looks like some kinda wagon."  
  
"It is. I need to make it so a fire will keep going in it but not burn anything up."  
  
"Yer gettin' nuttier by the day," Gravos said. "Whadd'a need a transportable fire for?"  
  
Jillas thought over his possible answers, then smirked faintly. "That," he said, "is a secret."  
  


* * *

  
"Thank you for shopping at _Vases and Maces_," Filia said, handing over the sales slip to her customer. "We hope to see you here again." The miniature sleigh bells on the door's ribbon chimed as it opened and shut, leaving her in peace and quiet once more.  
  
"Getting back into your old routine seems to have done wonders for your constitution," Xellos said.  
  
Filia almost jumped at the sudden voice behind her, and bit back a snarl. "Must you do that?"  
  
"Do what?" he asked innocently, hopping up to sit on the counter.  
  
"Sneak up on me!"  
  
"It's hardly my fault you're so jumpy."  
  
Filia glowered at him. "What do you want?"  
  
"Now here I thought we were getting along." Xellos grinned cheerfully. "I was going to offer my services to help you replace the pottery you broke before I left. So, what can I do?"  
  
"I don't know. Is there anything you _can_ do?" Immediately, Filia raised her hand, forestalling any reply. "Never mind, don't answer that. Why don't you tend to the counter while I'm working on the pottery?"  
  
"Why don't you teach me how to make things?"  
  
Filia looked at him. "I'd prefer to have full creative control over my products, thank you."  
  
"But you were teaching _him_." Xellos sounded almost petulant.  
  
"And we both know how _that_ turned out," she retorted. Satisfied she shut him up, Filia picked up her water bucket. "See to the customers. I'll get back to work." She cut through the kitchen to get to the water pump, and looked over to the shed, seeing Gravos and Jillas.  
  
She hung her head as she primed the pump, not wanting to see the looks on their faces. She couldn't cry -- she _wouldn't_ cry. Everything was going exactly as she intended, and she couldn't complain about it. And the sooner she got herself back on a more steady keel, the sooner Xellos would believe she could be left alone.  
  
"Ma'am?"  
  
Ma'am. Not oneesan. Filia drew in a steadying breath and looked to Jillas. "Yes?"  
  
"If you don't have any complaints, Gravos and me were going to head out in the morning for the next town."  
  
Filia grew still, leaning on the pump, and the water gushing out slowed to a trickle. She closed her eyes, resting her head on her arms. "If you wish." They were leaving? They couldn't. Who would she turn to when it was time?  
  
"There's some livestock for sale, I've heard. We'll pick out an ox."  
  
Hope began to nudge through the fatigue, and she looked up at Jillas.  
  
"Spring planting and all. Like you wanted."  
  
A tentative half-smile tugged at her mouth for a moment. "All right. Be sure and find a hardy one."  
  
"We will."  
  
"Thank you." Filia picked up the full bucket, pouring out some of the excess, and returned to the shop.  
  
"What did your little fox want?" Xellos asked, watching her as she sat down at the wheel.  
  
Filia dropped a ball of clay on the center and wet her hands. "Jillas and Gravos will be departing tomorrow. There's some livestock for sale in a nearby town, and an ox would come in handy for crops next year."  
  
He made an amused sound. "Once a prim-and-proper priestess, now a merchant and farmer. Such a drastic change, hmm?"  
  
"I do what I have to do to survive," Filia replied. "It's all anyone can really do." She set the wheel to spinning, cupping her hands around the small bit of clay, coaxing it into a teacup.  
  
"You certain shall at that, Miss Filia." He reappeared at her side. "No Mazoku would dare intrude here now."  
  
"Except you," came the saucy retort. She glanced up at him.  
  
Xellos smirked. "Well met, Miss Filia. You certainly seem to be getting your old spirit back."  
  
"There's no use in worrying over things out of my control."  
  
"Indeed, nor any use worrying over anything I deem insignificant."  
  
"I'd rather decide for myself what's insignificant or not."  
  
"Perhaps someday, when you are of a more stable mind," he replied, "as well as capable of making informed and sound decisions, none of which are the case at this time."  
  
Filia bit her tongue, glaring at the innocent teacup. "I suppose you might make a good argument," she gritted out.  
  
"Such a temper, little Dragon," Xellos purred, reaching out to toy with a lock of her hair.  
  
"You deliberately try to upset me."  
  
"I suppose I do." He sounded far too cheerful, and she bit back a growl. "But no harm, no foul. Just recall your place."  
  
"Oh, I'll remember it, all right," Filia said dryly, curving her fingers around the spinning cup.  
  
"Really now, Miss Filia." He brushed the back of his gloved hand against her cheek with a butterfly-soft touch. "Am I really all that bad?"  
  
The question caught her off-guard, and she looked up to him, startled. "You're a Mazoku," she answered lamely after a few moments of stammering.  
  
"And?"  
  
"And Mazoku are evil..."  
  
"We're back to that old song and dance, I see."  
  
"You're denying it?"  
  
"Of course not, Miss Filia. Don't be ridiculous."  
  
Filia completely forgot about the teacup as she squinted at him. "I've had some bizarre conversations with you in the past, Mr. Xellos, but this one is rapidly moving up into the top five list."  
  
"Whatever do you mean?"  
  
"First you imply that you're _not_ evil, now you're confirming you are."  
  
"I was merely asking if you really found my company all that unpleasant, and confirming that I was a Mazoku, Miss Filia. You really shouldn't make such wild assumptions."  
  
"Which brings us back to Mazoku being creatures of pure evil."  
  
"I wouldn't say that, Miss Filia."  
  
"What would you say then?"  
  
"We're merely chaotic beings."  
  
"And chaos isn't evil?"  
  
"Is life?"  
  
"Come again?"  
  
"Surely you must be aware of the chaotic force of life." He cracked one eye open. "Birth and death, such a messy, uncertain process, and everything in between."  
  
Filia just watched him, at a loss for words.  
  
"So, I'll ask you again. Am I really all that bad as you'd like to imagine?"  
  
"You're trying to confuse me," she stammered.  
  
"Am I? Or are you merely confusing yourself, clinging to a tired old dogma taught by hypocrites? You try so hard to cling to your hatred of me. I wonder, are you clinging for fear of falling?"  
  
"What are you trying to say?"  
  
"There's a very thin line between love and hate, wouldn't you say?"  
  
"Of course not! They're polar opposites!"  
  
"And where is the line between the degree of passion for each of them?"  
  
"It's like the difference between pure evil and pure good. They're both extremes but nothing alike."  
  
"Do you hate me?"  
  
"I..." Filia frowned, swallowing hard. His fingertips brushed her neck, and she shivered. But as much as she wanted it to be a shiver of revulsion...  
  
"If it's not hatred fueling the passion, what is it, Miss Filia?" he whispered.  
  
"Mazoku cannot love," she replied weakly, struggling to grip fast to that knowledge.  
  
"Can't they?"  
  
"Are you saying otherwise?"  
  
Xellos smirked, running his fingers through her hair, and leaned closer until he was just a breath away from touching her, his lips dangerously near. Filia swallowed hard, staring into his open eyes as the room started to feel as though it were spinning. Somewhere, logical thought screamed at her to pull away, but it was drowned over the roar of her own pulse.  
  
But just as she thought he was going to kiss her...  
  
"Sore wa himitsu desu," he whispered, then straightened, pulling away. His eyes closed and his expression returned to its normal, cheerful façade. Before she could react, the door chimed merrily and he turned away to greet the customer.  
  
It took all the willpower in existence to stop herself from crying when she realized she was disappointed.  
  
She had wanted him to kiss her.  
  


* * *

  
It was maddening.  
  
Jillas and Gravos had been gone for nearly a week by the time Filia was almost ready to believe she had only imagined that Xellos had been toying at the notion of kissing her. Although they were alone in the house daily, his conduct was impeccable. The subtle, teasing touches were gone, and his manner toward her was friendly, yet businesslike.  
  
Purely platonic.  
  
The first few days, Filia had been wary, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Surely he was attempting to catch her off guard. That would have been quite what she'd come to expect of him.  
  
She started to think that it was merely an act for the benefit of her servants, and it would resume once they returned.  
  
She was wrong.  
  
Eventually, she began wishing that he _would_ do something, and found herself striving to set him up, to lure him into treating her as had, to make her pulse race and her head spin. Always, always after that, after her realization on what she was doing, Filia had to struggle against the nausea.  
  
What was she doing? She loved Valgaav, with all her heart, and she would continue to love him until the end of time.  
  
Filia studied her face in the mirror, searching desperately for some sort of sign that she wasn't falling into her own trap. Whenever she tried to picture his face, she saw a different one instead, one framed by silky-soft violet hair. A sharp, throbbing ache of a loneliness so intense it overwhelmed her echoed low inside.  
  
Yes, she still loved him, and she missed him more with each breath.  
  
But the pleasant days of fall were over, and winter's icy grip was beginning to snake over the land. It was growing nearer and nearer for the time when she would have to lay the egg, and Xellos could not be aware, let alone present. Everything would have been in vain if he were. Yet he showed no indication of wanting to leave.  
  
Maybe the ball had fallen into her court. Perhaps he would no longer feel he had to watch over her like a hawk would a mouse if she could make him think that she had forgotten about Valgaav.  
  
The worst part was knowing that on some level deep inside, she _wanted_ to do what she would have to do. Filia could only pray that she didn't lose herself so much that she forgot her mission and her goal.  
  
_Please, Cephied, give me strength._  
  
"Are you warm enough?"  
  
Filia startled slightly and looked into the mirror again, her eyes refocusing on a face somewhere behind her, still visible in the pale dying light of a late wintery afternoon.  
  
"I'm... I am a bit cold," she admitted. The setting sun had robbed the room of its meager warmth, and no fireplace was located in the bedroom. He walked up behind her, snagging a blanket from a chest on his way.  
  
"Here. You really should take better care of your health, Miss Filia. I would not wish to see you ill."  
  
When he draped the blanket over her shoulders, Filia mustered up her courage and stood, turning to face him. "A blanket would help," she agreed quietly, and stepped around the vanity stool, approaching him slowly, gripping the edges of the woven fabric in her hands. "But even a blanket can only do so much to provide warmth."  
  
Under the shadows of his bangs, Filia caught a glimmer of amethyst as one eye opened, watching her intently. She swallowed hard, nervously, and stepped closer.  
  
He said not a word, and made no move in her direction. Shy, nervous, apprehensive, scared -- Filia placed a trembling hand against his chest, bracing herself as she moved to perch on her toes, leaning closer.  
  
Ever so faintly, the slightest hint of a smirk tugged one corner of his mouth.  
  
For that brief heartbeat, the fear was almost overwhelming, and so was the urge to flee. But it wasn't strong enough to counter the knowledge of what had to be done, fueled by the denied desire. Before she lost her nerve, she pressed her lips to his.  
  
His lips were cool and dry, devoid of the warmth one would expect to find in an apparently living being. It only served to remind her that he wasn't like any other creature. But it was too late to back down now.  
  
When he made no attempt to kiss her back, Filia's resolve began to crumple around the unexpected pain inside. She drew back slowly, trying desperately to fight the twinge of rejection.  
  
"This is a surprise, Miss Filia," Xellos murmured, his voice low and even.  
  
She stammered out some vague attempt at an apology, ducking her head, pulling away, cheeks afire.  
  
Then he gripped her, preventing her from leaving, his touch that of gentle steel. Filia started to look at him, and was pulled firmly against his body before she could blink. His mouth covered hers, and an involuntary moan rose up inside at the sudden, dominant intensity of it.  
  
"What do you want?" he whispered, keeping his lips to hers.  
  
Filia struggled to gather up the breath and courage for the words. "Stay with me tonight."  
  
The hand rubbing her back went still briefly, and the one in her hair clenched a tighter fist around the tresses, pulling her against him fiercely as he kissed her with an almost violent intensity.   
  
"So glad to see you have come to understand that you are _mine_, Miss Filia," he purred against her lips.  
  
And that night, somewhere deep inside, a little piece of her heart shattered and went numb.  
  


_to be continued..._

  



	10. Chapter 10

**Note to Readers:** Once you get over the hill, you start to pick up speed, ne? And for the curious, the herbs named are, to the best of my knowledge and research, the sort of things which Filia might be inclined to use for such a purpose.  
~ Zanne  
  


**All Through the Night**  
Chapter Ten

  
  
When she awoke, she was alone. For a few brief moments in the limbo between asleep and awake, all seemed fine. Nothing seemed changed.  
  
The door opened, and for a fleeting heartbeat as the last lingering traces of sleep evaporated, there was the respite, the thought that it would be him again. Filia struggled to repress the surge of nausea when the expected sight gave way to the reality.  
  
"Good morning, Miss Filia!"  
  
_"Stop."_  
  
"I thought you might be waking up now, so I brought you your tea."  
  
_"You're mine now."_  
  
"Thank you." Her words sounded strained, even to her own ears.  
  
_"Please don't do this."_  
  
He cracked one eye open at her for a moment, then set the tray down. "I daresay that's the first time you've slept well in quite a while. You must not be quite awake yet."  
  
_"I don't see why you think you have any say in this any longer. You belong to me."_  
  
"I could use some tea, certainly," Filia whispered, a small shiver running down her spine at the memory of his hands -- too cool and too smooth to be real -- as they parted her dress, sliding across the bare skin of her back, moving it to her shoulders.  
  
_"No, please." She made no attempt to stop him; there was nothing she could do, not physically. "I... yes, I am yours" -- she almost choked on the words -- "but I am not ready, not for this, please."_  
  
Xellos poured the hot liquid, and handed her the cup. "Just the way you like it, Miss Filia."  
  
_"You were ready for him." His voice was petulant, laced with venomous jealousy._  
  
"Thank you, Mister Xellos." It rattled slightly on the saucer as she brought it to her. She could still feel his tongue, the touch cool and dry, as it grazed over her spine and moved to her neck. Filia sipped the tea almost too quickly, still feeling his hands holding her bare hips as his teeth bit into the tender flesh of her skin. It was a bite of animalistic dominance that fell just shy of being painful while still firm enough to make her every nerve aware.  
  
_"Very well, Miss Filia." It took a moment for his voice, low and purring, to register in her senses. His tongue grazed her ear gently. "I will wait." She almost yelped as he nipped her, the flesh of her neck stinging from the intensity. "For now."_  
  
His hand covered her own, holding the tea steady in her grip as he moved onto the bed beside her. Xellos took care not to jostle her and cause any of the hot liquid to splash, and settled in beside her. Filia closed her eyes, a dull ache throbbing behind her temples. Why did he do this? Were it anyone else, she would actually start to think he cared.  
  
She felt his arm slip around her shoulders, pulling her against his chest as they reclined against the headboard. A giggle tried to force its way to the surface, born out of the absurdity of it, out of fear. She supposed they looked no different than any other couple, relaxing in bed and waking up together. He stroked her cheek and her neck, running his fingers through her blonde tresses with a degree of gentleness that felt as though it should be beyond his ability to achieve.  
  
Filia clung to the notion that this was all a trick, a lie, a manipulation with the same level of rabid urgency that a drowning man would cling to a rope as it gradually slipped through his fingers. The harder she held, the more it slipped away, leaving her burned and raw in its wake. Damn that little part of her, the part that wanted this to _not_ be a lie, to believe that Xellos was right, had been right all along.  
  
It was the part that feverishly clung to the hope that she hadn't damned herself to a life devoid of love.  
  
She didn't even notice that he took her tea away until he turned her face toward him. His lips claimed hers with a calm dominance that her traitorous body felt clear down to her toes.  
  
"Just relax, Miss Filia. Everything will be fine, you'll see."  
  
When she looked into his eyes, for one scary heartbeat, she teetered on the brink of falling into endless darkness. For just that brief moment in time, it was easy to believe that he was right. It was easy to think that Valgaav _was_ a mistake, that Xellos _did_ love her, somehow, and that she could be happy if she would just stop fighting and accept it.  
  
Then rationale managed to gain a foothold, however tenuous, and Filia wondered, as she rested her head on his shoulder, how much more her sanity could take.  
  


* * *

  
Filia didn't realize she was no longer alone in the room until a hand rested lightly on her back. She jumped, looking up from her task of scrubbing the living room hearth to see Xellos crouching beside her.  
  
"You startled me."  
  
"You're just a very jumpy Dragon," he replied, giving her an amused smirk. Then his expression turned thoughtful. "On the other hand, I've never known a Dragon to not be jumpy around me."  
  
_I wonder why_, Filia thought sourly.  
  
He reached up, and she shivered as his gloved hand lightly stroked the back of her neck, tracing her spine. "I'm afraid I have some rather unfortunate news, Miss Filia."  
  
She felt as though she were just hit with a spell that turned her into solid ice, and sent every nerve thrumming like frozen wires. Her insides felt liquefied by the cold, and churned with queasy waves. He could mean that in any manner, for anything. Perhaps the game was up, perhaps he killed Jillas and Gravos.  
  
Perhaps Valgaav was dead.  
  
Filia struggled to fill her paralyzed lungs with air, and made a noble but vain effort to squelch the fear.  
  
Xellos opened one eye slightly and smirked. "I must say, you're quite thoughtful to provide a parting dinner for me, but really, you are overreacting. It would seem that some of Lord Dynast's minions are operating in an area which Lord Beastmaster sees as her territory, and wishes for me to resolve the situation."  
  
"You...you're leaving?" Filia sucked down a shaky gasp, filling her lungs. _Dear Cephied, don't let me feel relieved_!  
  
"You're happy about this?" Xellos sounded hurt.  
  
"N-no," Filia stammered quickly. "It's just not quite as bad as I thought it might be."  
  
"What _did_ you think it might be, Miss Filia?" His voice was a soft and velvety purr, and he moved closer, his fingers sliding up the back of her neck into her hair. It could have been a lover's caress, or the preliminary motion to seize her tightly and maybe even snap her neck.  
  
"It just...it doesn't sound as though it would take too long, or be too dangerous," Filia replied, her heart beating wildly.  
  
"Not dangerous for _me_, at any rate." He gave her a trademark cheerful smile.  
  
"R-right." He was suspicious, she could feel it in the way he touched her, the way one eye slitted open just a fraction. Filia closed her eyes tightly and threw herself into his arms, clinging to him. "You'll come back, won't you?"  
  
Xellos was still for a moment, then his arms went around her. "Yes, of course I will, you silly Dragon." It was a rare moment when his surprise was evident in his voice. "What's gotten into you?"  
  
"I just don't want to be alone..."  
  
He chuckled. "I will always be here, don't worry about that, Miss Filia."  
  
The confused and violent roller coaster of emotions roiling inside her made it quite easy for her to induce some very real tears. She lifted her head, reaching up to hold his face between her hands gently, and kissed him, pouring in every ounce of her desperation at the whole situation into it. "Don't leave me too," she whimpered quietly, keeping her lips against his.  
  
He sighed, gripping her shoulders firmly and pushed her back, looking in her eyes with his own wide-open ones. "Miss Filia, I _must_ leave. I cannot refuse an order from Lord Beastmaster, you know that. But I will return. Quite honestly, have you ever known me to lie?"  
  
Mutely, she shook her head. Good. It was a true assignment, and not just a ploy to trap her.  
  
"Now behave while I'm gone. I'll be back before you know it."  
  
"How long?"  
  
"I am loathe to put a timetable on it, because things can always take on unexpected twists or I may receive a new assignment stemming from this. But I can say that it will be two days at the very least."  
  
Filia nodded, closing her eyes.  
  
"Now do take care of yourself, Miss Filia. I shall return shortly." She felt his hand leave the back of her neck, and when she opened her eyes again, he was gone.  
  
Her chores forgotten, Filia pressed a hand to her still-flat abdomen. The growth of the egg remained within her draconian form, not the magic-created human body. It was very near time when she would have to lay it, but the creation of life followed its own timetable, not what was convenient.  
  
She had already foreseen the possibility, and knew what she had to do. This was as good as it was going to get.  
  
But the knowing did nothing to assuage the raw grief that was beginning to claw at her heart.  
  


* * *

  
The sudden deep chime of the grandfather clock sounding off the first of seven peals broke the stillness of the room and startled her. Filia looked around, noticing it had grown darker, the sun drawing down past the horizon without her realizing it.  
  
If she didn't move now, she would sabotage her own sacrifice. The thought lent a bit of strength to her resolve, and she pushed to her feet. "Jillas, Gravos?" she called, pausing by the stairs. She could hear them moving around, and knew they were still awake.  
  
A few moments later, Jillas' head peeked through the opening in the ceiling. "Yes?"  
  
"It's time."  
  
For a moment, his face was blank, then his eyes practically bulged from his head. "You... the egg... _now_?!"  
  
"Something like that. Could you please come down and bring Gravos, and ask Gravos to find the sharpest blade he has?"  
  
"Sure, but why?"  
  
"You'll find out. And I need him to make his sharpest blade even sharper if he can. In the meantime, go assemble the cart. I'll pack some food and supplies." Filia turned away and walked toward the kitchen.  
  
"Sure, oneesan, we're on it."  
  
Filia froze at the term of endearment, and raised suddenly damp eyes to the trapdoor where the foxman had been. She smiled briefly, feeling a pang of bittersweet pain, then shook it off, concentrating on what lay before her.  
  
"Are you sure this isn't sharp enough?" Gravos complained as she lugged a bucket of water in to the fireplace.  
  
"Let me see," Filia replied, dumping the water into the kettle, taking a moment to stir up the flames to bring it to a boil before inspecting the sword. She picked up a wooden spoon, and carefully ran the handle along the sharp edge. It sliced through the wood easily enough, but... "Try to get it a little bit sharper."  
  
"How sharp do you need this?" he demanded, raising an eyebrow with incredulous shock.  
  
"Sharp enough to cut dragonscale."  
  
Gravos was quiet for a few moments as she hurried about the kitchen, pulling things out of the larder, wrapping them in cheesecloths and packing them away in skins. "Whaddya need to do that for?"  
  
"We cannot wait. It could be tomorrow, it could be a month. I can't gamble that Xellos will be conveniently gone for nature to take its course. This is as good as its likely going to get, and I'm not going to sabotage myself by waiting."  
  
"You're gonna get killed."  
  
"Not necessarily. I've spent a lot of time thinking this through." Filia pulled the drawstrings taut, and shoved the skins of food to the end of the table. "Now go sharpen that sword, and quickly. I'll clarify things more when it's time."  
  
Filia fetched several blankets, stacking them on the table as well, and tossed a few empty waterskins on top for good measure. Hands on her hips, she looked around, studying the room. That was everything, except...  
  
She quickly raced down the hall to her bedroom, and reached into her closet for a small wooden box, far longer than it was wide or deep. Filia pulled away the latch and opened it to check the contents, nodding to herself before placing the box with the other items on the kitchen table.  
  
"The ox is ready to go," Jillas said, stepping into the kitchen.  
  
"Let's get him loaded up. Do you have the cart assembled?"  
  
"Right down to the rug basket in the case." Jillas gave her a toothy grin. "You came up with a fine invention, if I do say so myself."  
  
"Thank you, Jillas." She touched his cheek gently, then scooped up the blankets in her arms. "There's the food, and the waterskins. Keep that little box with you at all times. If you need money on the trip, there's a signet ring within. It will also grant you access to the White Magic capital when you arrive in Seyruun."  
  
Jillas opened the box and looked inside, quiet for a moment. "Should I guess the other item is for the hatchling?"  
  
Filia struggled to fight down the lump that formed in her throat, and merely nodded before ducking out of the house.  
  
Jillas helped her load up the front of the wagon with the blankets and supplies, and Filia checked her invention. The top of the wagon opened to reveal a metal box. Tiny holes peppered the bottom of the metal, opening up to the oven below. Securely strung up in the center with multiple strips of weathered rawhide was a thick, colorful, braided rug which Filia had ordered to be specially crafted into a bowl shape. It was sufficiently big to house the egg, and she carefully padded it with an additional quilt. Hopefully the rawhide would offer suspension, buffering the egg from the rough road before them.  
  
"Now what?" Jillas asked, following her into the house as she dug out a small tin of herbs.  
  
"Load up the oven with wood and coal, then take the ox around front and tether him," Filia ordered as she measured out an ample dosage of the herbs into a bowl. "Find out if Gravos is done, and have him bring out some hot coals from the fire to place in the oven. Set aside a bowl for the boiling water that's over the fire, and just before we start, bring it out, along with some towels and a blanket." She fetched several small jars out of a cabinet, and began spooning in the oil or liquid contents.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Making a tincture."  
  
"No, I mean this. Everything."  
  
"The only thing, the safest thing that can be done," Filia said, and carefully measured in teaspoons of a powder into a glass of water. "I'll explain more soon. Now go, and give me a few minutes to let me transform."  
  
She poured some precious plantain juice into a large jar, and added powdered white oak bark. Finally, she stuffed two long sacks of cheesecloth with towels and plenty of dried Purple Dead-Nettle leaves and flowers, and put them in the jar, filling the vessel with boiling water.  
  
By the time Gravos and Jillas came outside with their assigned items, Filia was reclining in the back yard. The area, which normally felt spacious, was cramped with a full Dragon taking up nearly every available inch. Her various medicinal mixtures were setting safely away by the well, save for the bowl of tincture, which had already been consumed. The narcotic effect of the herbs was kicking in, and Filia felt extremely numb and sluggish. The amount she had prepared and consumed would have been enough to kill a human, but for a Dragon, all it did was decrease her heartrate and deaden her nerves.  
  
She felt horribly awkward; in her magically-obtained human body, she was only vaguely aware of the egg's presence. Her human body showed none of the more physical signs of the pregnancy, and truly experiencing it for the first time, Filia felt uncomfortably full and queasy.  
  
Jillas set the bowl of boiling water down, and Gravos held the sharp sword carefully. Filia closed her eyes, and felt disoriented as their voices seemed to drift up to meet her from a long distance off.  
  
"What are we gonna do?" Gravos asked, studying Filia.  
  
"I've already mentioned that we can't wait for circumstances to be convenient for us, this is as good as we'll probably ever get." She spoke slowly, taking care to properly pronounce each word. She couldn't let herself fall too far into sluggishness, since she needed to keep a clear enough mind to cast a spell. "But more than that, it would be dangerous to wait."  
  
"Why?" Jillas asked.  
  
"That will be when my maternal instincts will be at their strongest. Even though I want you to leave with the egg, I may not be allowed to let you go. This way, should it even become an issue, I wouldn't be strong enough to stop you."  
  
Filia rolled onto her side, folding her wings out of the way. A hazy circle made by unburnt coal marked a section of her lower belly, and she traced the exact area with a talon. "Right here, cut as carefully as you can, Gravos. Make a simple cross-shaped incision if at all possible. Do not cut deeply, keep each cut as shallow as you can until you reach the egg."  
  
"Filia..?"  
  
"Just do it," she growled. "I won't feel it. Much. Jillas, stay with him, and once he cuts down to the egg, remove it. It will be heavy, so Gravos, take it over, be careful now, and wash it with the hot water Jillas brought out, and dry it off. Jillas, while he does that, remove those cloths from the jar by the well, and cross them over the incisions, and pour the jar's contents over the site. That will help staunch the bleeding. After you both get the egg nestled in the cart, stay with the ox, Gravos."  
  
"Got it, boss," he said.  
  
"Jillas, I'll need you to come back, and give me that glass when I ask for it, help me drink it. It's oak bark powder, and it will help fight any remaining internal bleeding. I'll be casting spells, so it won't be long. Stay until the wound is healed up enough for me to risk transforming, and help me inside. Then go. Go quickly, and don't look back. While you're waiting, you can use that time to pack up your things."  
  
Jillas didn't answer, but hugged her long neck tightly instead.  
  
"Do it now."  
  
"Right. Jillas, get over here."  
  
Filia slammed her talons into the ground, clutching to it. Even with the tincture in her system, it took all her willpower to keep from crying out as she felt the blade delve deeper inside.  
  


_to be continued..._

  



	11. Chapter 11

**Note to Readers:** Whew! Two updates in one day. I hope you're not expecting me to keep this up. ::sweatdrops:: Everything was moving pretty fast down a definite course. This ride's nearing its end, but don't undo the seatbelt just yet. ^_~  
~ Zanne  
  


**All Through the Night**  
Chapter Eleven

  
  
Filia snarled as cold water hit her face, and weakly tried to snap at the hand on her muzzle.  
  
"Oneesan! You have to wake up!" Jillas' voice was laced with fear, and he kept shaking her. "You need to cast a spell!"  
  
Gradually the events started to filter back into place, and she was vaguely aware of the memory of the sensation of losing something worth more than her own life. Hot, wet heat from the packs covered her belly, mingling with the blood that was still flowing too quickly.  
  
With a groan, she managed to move her paws down over the incision, and forced her sluggish tongue to form words. "Blessed and humble hand of God, life and breath of Mother Earth..."  
  
As the recovery spell went into effect, the bleeding began to taper off.  
  
"I'll be okay, Jillas," Filia mumbled, her mouth feeling thick and numb. "Go get your things together, check back in a few minutes..."  
  
"Oneesan..."  
  
"Do it."  
  
She didn't remember him leaving, and had no idea how much time had slipped away when she forced her eyes open again. She re-cast the recovery spell, bringing the bleeding to a stop. Her best bet for recuperating from the impromptu surgery would be a resurrection spell, but channeling the energy for it would be tricky. It was more important to get the bleeding to a standstill.  
  
A paw stroked her muzzle, and she opened her eyes, unaware she had even closed them in the first place. "The water," she croaked, her voice cracking from the strain of speech. "Pour it in my mouth."  
  
Filia turned her head, angling her snout upward and parted her jaws for Jillas to pour the water mixed with oak bark powder down her throat. It would help with internal bleeding. "How ready are you?"  
  
"We're getting there, but when we get you inside, I'll stay with the ox. Gravos thinks it would be a good idea to pump out a few buckets of water and wash away the blood on the grass as well as we can."  
  
"Don't take too long."  
  
"We won't."  
  
"Is... is the egg...?"  
  
"Everything's fine, oneesan. Don't worry. We'll keep the little one safe, you can count on us." He stroked his paw over her muzzle as he spoke, and Filia found the gesture soothing. "Will there be a scar?"  
  
"In this body, there might be, but it's not likely there will be any on my other one. That is created by magic. It depends on the severity of the injuries, I think." Filia groaned tiredly. "I don't know. I don't even know if I'm making sense."  
  
"I think you are."  
  
"I'm going to try for a resurrection spell now. Go finish packing."  
  


* * *

  
Filia grabbed for the afghan draped over the back of the sofa, clutching to it for warmth as Jillas helped her lie down. She shivered uncontrollably, trying to get her limbs to work to cover herself. Jillas tucked the afghan around her, looking at her worriedly.  
  
"Do you need more blankets?"  
  
She nodded, teeth chattering too rapidly for speech, and closed her eyes. The next thing she knew, a heavy weight was spread comfortably over her as he piled up several blankets, tucking them in.  
  
"The fire's okay for right now. Gravos will put more wood on it after he finishes with the pump."  
  
"Then you'll go?"  
  
"We'll be gone before midnight, I can say that much. One of us will stay with the ox at all times, and watch the egg. We're also going to do the dishes and take care of any other bits of evidence."  
  
"Don't take too long."  
  
"We won't. We do want to make sure you'll be okay. I'll bring you some tea and something to eat in a bit." Jillas started to pull away, but she grabbed his arm.  
  
"You'll stay with the baby, won't you?"  
  
"We're not leaving the egg alone, one of us will be with the ox while--"  
  
"No. Always. Take care of the baby for me, please?"  
  
Jillas moved back to her, and brushed her bangs, drenched with cold sweat, out of her face. "We promise. We'll guard the hatchling with our lives. It should be safe in Seyruun."  
  
Filia nodded, releasing her weak grip on his arm, and closed her eyes. After what seemed to be merely moments, she felt a hand shaking her shoulder, and looked up at Jillas. "Hmm?" she mumbled, snuggling deeper under the blankets.  
  
"Your tea, oneesan. I also cut up some apples and cheese, and there's some bread here too." Filia looked to the coffee table in front of the sofa. Jillas plucked the teapot off the tray, and poured her a small cup. "Do you want me to help you sit up a little more?"  
  
She closed her eyes wearily, considering it. She did need to get her energy back up. When she nodded, he carefully slid his hands under her shoulders, helping her scoot higher up into a better position to eat. He draped another blanket around her quaking shoulders, and Filia clutched the hot cup of tea greedily, basking in the warmth it gave her chilled hands.  
  
Filia sipped it slowly, and Jillas moved the coffee table closer, bringing everything within easy reach.  
  
"Are you going to be okay, oneesan?"  
  
"I just need a bit of rest, Jillas," Filia replied between sips. To reassure him, she picked up a slice of apple, and nibbled at it gingerly.  
  
"But what about him?"  
  
"I can handle Xellos," Filia said, and hoped it was the truth. She had a plan worked out, and it went for broke, all or nothing. But so far, so good.  
  
"I'm..." Jillas faltered, and blinked back tears, rubbing his good eye. "We're leaving now, oneesan."  
  
"Be careful."  
  
"We will, don't worry about us. We'll take care of things. We'll sell the ox when we reach the port, but we won't let the cart get put into the hold. One of us will be with it at all times standing guard. Once we dock on the other side, it shouldn't be but a few days, a week at the most before we reach the White Magic capital, if the maps are right." He refilled Filia's cup and continued. "Gravos thinks we'll get there in two weeks, maybe a little over that. It depends on the weather more than anything else."  
  
"Don't stop for anything when you get there," Filia said quietly, closing her eyes as she sipped the tea. "See Amelia, or her father if she's not there. You have the signet ring. Use that."  
  
"We've got everything in hand, oneesan. Just worry about getting better, don't worry about us."  
  
"Good luck, Jillas."  
  
"You too..." He hesitated, as if he were about to say something else, but shook his head. Jillas circled the sofa and hugged her carefully, mindful of the hot tea in her hands.  
  
"Oneesan..."  
  
"I know, Jillas," Filia said quietly. "Me too." She reached up and gently patted the foxman on the head. It would be lonely beyond belief without them, and even more difficult to get by. But she'd manage. She had to.  
  
A few moments after he ducked out of the room, she became aware of a shadow in the doorway. Gravos stood there, looking uncertain.  
  
"I thought you were leaving...?"  
  
"Yeah, well, I wanted to say somethin' first."  
  
"Yes, Gravos?"  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
Hot tears bit at her eyes, and Filia gave him a shaky smile. "I know, Gravos. It's okay. Go. Please. You haven't much time." Gravos nodded and started to turn away. "You'll take care of things, won't you?"  
  
With a backward glance over his shoulder, he gave her a toothy grin. "You can count on me, boss."  
  
"I know."  
  
It wasn't until the sky was turning a lighter gray with the dawn that Filia realized she never even once had a chance to see her egg.  
  


* * *

  
By the next evening, Filia felt strong enough to make a light sandwich, and tidy up the living room somewhat before retreating to her own bed to sleep. A few hours the following day were spent up and about, tending to various minor tasks and making some stew. She considered the merits of replenishing her larder, but the thought of getting dressed and presentable felt overwhelming in contrast to her energy level, let alone actually leaving the house and shopping in the increasingly bitter wind.  
  
Most of her time was spent asleep, recovering her strength from the loss of blood and internal wounds. It was so hard to remember that Jillas and Gravos were gone, and even harder to not take flight and pursue them. She knew then that she had made the right choice; had she merely waited to lay the egg naturally, or even if she had a chance to see it, to touch it, to make it real and tangible to her mind, her draconian instincts could very well override logic.  
  
During her waking hours, she rehearsed in her mind what she would say to Xellos, what she would do, how she would act. She was learning his buttons, his weaknesses, just as he had learned hers. The final door was shutting; for the sake of everyone, she had to accept her new place as willingly and wholeheartedly as she could, and perhaps he would never learn the truth.  
  
When she awoke to the shifting of weight on her bed, Filia knew it was time for the final act.  
  
"You came back," she murmured, not looking to him as she rolled on the bed to his direction. Her arms slipped around his slender waist, and she nuzzled closer, sleepy. He did nothing in response. She realized he could very well be suspicious that she thought he was Valgaav, especially since she hadn't looked to him yet. That was important. Act as though she expected him in her life now. "It didn't take long, I suppose Dynast's people posed no match for you." There. Clear up all doubt.  
  
He responded then, placing a hand lightly on her head, and chuckled softly. "Indeed. They were hardly what I would call a suitable opponent."  
  
"Good," she murmured. "I worried."  
  
"Did you now." His tone was low, purring. There was no question to it. His hand stroked her hair gently. "Miss Filia, I have a question."  
  
"Yes, Mister Xellos?"  
  
"Where are your servants?"  
  
Moment of truth. She clung to him tighter. She couldn't let him see her eyes, she wasn't that skilled a liar. "We fought. An argument. They left."  
  
"I noticed the ox you desired is also gone."  
  
"I let Jillas have it; with it just down to me who needs food, anything bigger than a garden would be a waste. I'm not a farmer. I don't know anything about maintaining crops."  
  
"Magnanimous of you."  
  
"Just getting rid of another mouth to feed, since I wouldn't really have much use for the ox personally. Besides, Jillas bought it with his own earnings."  
  
"I see." He was quiet. "Where have they gone?"  
  
"Don't know, don't really care." She sniffled, letting her voice crack.  
  
"Why are you crying then, Miss Filia, if you do not care?"  
  
She didn't answer him right away. "It's been too quiet."  
  
"Unaccustomed to being on your own, are you now?"  
  
"Are you going to leave?"  
  
"Miss Filia, stop thinking such things. I told you before, I will always be here." He started to stand, and she clung frantically to his cloak.  
  
"Don't leave me..."  
  
"Miss Filia--"  
  
"Please?" She looked up at him finally, and realized with a start that her desperation for companionship wasn't feigned.   
  
His eyes were open as he studied her. "Miss Filia, it wasn't all that long ago that you wished me gone, preferably damned into the abyss."  
  
"I don't know anymore," she murmured, frowning in confusion as she laid her head down on the pillow. "Just don't let me be alone..."  
  
Xellos was silent, then she heard an audible sigh a few moments later. "Very well, then," he said, his tone brisk. "Move over."  
  
She scooted back, but did not release his cloak. Xellos moved onto the bed beside her, and she promptly returned to his side, clinging to him as if her life depended on it.  
  
Someone's life did, if not her own.  
  


* * *

  
Once Filia's breathing had evened out in sleep, Xellos allowed himself a small, victorious smirk.  
  
He had chosen well with this one, he decided, watching her golden hair slip between his gloved fingers. He was happy his instincts had not let him down. The young Dragon was certainly a pet worthy of having him, Xellos Metallium, for its master.  
  
Everything was proceeding exactly as he anticipated.  
  


_to be continued..._

  



	12. Chapter 12

**Note to Readers:** Thanks for the reviews, support, and sticking with me during the dry spells, everybody. No, this isn't the final chapter, but I'm looking at maybe only one or two more to go.  
~ Zanne  
  


**All Through the Night**  
Chapter Twelve

  
  
"Gimme that map, ya screwy fox!" Gravos grumbled, snatching the parchment from Jillas. "Ya can't be readin' it right!"  
  
"I am too!" Jillas protested, huddling under his cloak against the freezing rain.  
  
Gravos squinted at it, then crumpled it into a ball. "How can anybody be readin' it right?" he demanded. "The rain's got it all blurred to hell'n back!"  
  
"I was reading it _before_ it got blurred," Jillas retorted. "Just a few more miles down that way, there's a junction, and we take the road leading north. That will take us to the border, and just past that is the White Magic Capital."  
  
"Bah." Gravos shoved the crumpled map in his pocket, and put his hand back on the ox's shoulder. "Get up!" Jillas tagged along behind to keep watch on the egg as the ox started lumbering down the somewhat muddy road, crusted over with fragile layers of ice. "I tell ya one thing, they better be more willin' to take us in when we get there than the inns we've seen so far. If I gotta take one more minute longer than I gotta for this kinda weather, somebody's skull's gonna get broke."  
  
"Just try to not make a bad impression," Jillas called up to him.  
  
"Well..." Gravos smirked. "I'll try, but I might gotta slam their bodies into the ground a few times to get the impression lookin' right."  
  
"Just try not to get us banned from the place before we find the princess."  
  
"Will ya quit yer worryin'?" Gravos looked over his shoulder. "How's the kid?"  
  
"Fine, as near as I can tell."  
  
Gravos returned his gaze to the road ahead of them.  
  
"She really _is_ my oneesan." Jillas' voice was full of pride. "She came up with this invention all by herself, too. I can't wait to tell her how well it worked."  
  
"And when do ya think yer gonna get to do that?"  
  
"Well, when we see her again." He paused. "You do think we'll see her again, don't you?"  
  
"No, Jillas." Gravos looked back at his friend. "I can't say I do."  
  
The foxman's ears drooped. "Why do you say that?"  
  
"Coupl'a reasons. We gotta take care of the kid, we promised her that. Plus, Dragons live a hellalot longer than our kind. Finally, we don't know what she told that Mazoku about our goin' away. We could screw the whole works up by darkenin' her door again."  
  
"Well, yeah, but she knows where we are! She'll come find us when it's okay to go back."  
  
Gravos didn't answer him.  
  
"Right? She will, right?"  
  
Gravos shook his head. "I don't suppose she will, 'cause I don't suppose it'd ever be safe. Not in our lifetimes anyway."  
  
"But, Gravos--"  
  
"Whoa." He halted the ox and turned to face Jillas. "I know ya wanna see her again. Hell, yer not the only one. But lookin' back now, it was gettin' too dangerous for any of us to stay."  
  
"We could find Lord Valgaav..."  
  
"An' then what?" Gravos sighed in exasperation. "We gotta take care'a the kid. He's way the hell back there, if he's even where I think he is. Besides, what can he do?"  
  
"He can fight him!"  
  
"Jillas, get real. Once, he could'a, sure. But that Mazoku's the stronger one. All we'd be doin' is gettin' him killed." He slapped the ox's shoulder lightly. "Get up."  
  
They walked in silence for several long minutes.  
  
"Do you think it's hopeless, boss?"  
  
Gravos didn't reply immediately, considering his answer. "I think we've got about as much hope as I figure we're gonna get."  
  
"Do you think oneesan'll be okay?"  
  
"A'course I do," Gravos replied automatically.  
  
"There has got to be _something_ we can do."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"There's got to be somebody strong enough to fight him. Maybe Inverse."  
  
Gravos snorted in disgust. "It'll be a cold day in hell before we see any help from the likes of her. She tried to kill Lord Valgaav, in case you forgot."  
  
"But she's friends with oneesan!"  
  
"And with that Mazoku. Jillas, I know ya wanna help her, but if ya do, you'll do what she told us to do, and that's watch the kid."  
  
"She _did_ put an awful lot of thought into this..." Jillas admitted reluctantly.  
  
"And don't ya be forgetting' that."  
  


* * *

  
"Princess Amelia, with deepest respect, I would advise postponing your daily ride for a little while longer."  
  
Amelia blinked and raised a slender black eyebrow as she looked up at her guard. "Why? What's going on?" she asked, tugging her jacket straight as she adjusted the buttons.  
  
"It seems there's some unsavory rabble by the southern gate causing a bit of a problem in the city, and they're searching for you. It would also seem that they have obtained a counterfeit royal symbol and are using it to try to gain access."  
  
Face, meet hand. Amelia sighed heavily, dragging her palm down her features. "And hearing _that_, I'm more than certain it's okay and that it's not counterfeit. Have any buildings been blown up yet?"  
  
"No, your highness," the guard replied. "Were you expecting someone?"  
  
"Not really, but it wouldn't be unlikely for it to be someone I know." She drummed her fingers against the tan material of her jodhpurs as she considered what to do.  
  
The guard was quiet for a moment. "Your highness, with all due respect, you know some of the most...unusual individuals," he said carefully.  
  
"Tell me about it. Send someone along ahead and tell them I'm on my way, and try not to level the city," Amelia instructed the guard, and added _sotto voce_, "again."  
  
She picked up her pace and jogged out into the courtyard, cutting across it to the royal stables. The groom already had her favorite mare brushed and saddled, and Amelia wasted no time swinging up onto her back. She gathered up the dual reins and clucked her tongue, urging the horse into an easy lope as she slid her boots into the stirrups.  
  
Amelia shifted her weight and urged the mare to pick up speed as they neared the low paddock gate, and cleared it with little effort. She wasn't really supposed to ride that quickly down the cobblestoned streets of Seyruun, but if it was Miss Lina or Mister Zelgadis, it would be better for the city on the whole if she got there quickly to put a lid on any trouble.  
  
It was second nature to guide the bay through a virtual maze of buildings and citizens, for Amelia had been riding since almost before she could walk. Skilled fingers barely pulled and tightened the reins attached to the two bits in the horse's sensitive mouth. She only had to rein in the mare to a slower speed twice as her route was blocked, and coaxed her back into a swift canter as they skirted around wagons.  
  
"Whoa, girl." Amelia brought the mare to a stop, and the bay pranced in a tight circle, tossing her head and snorting as Amelia looked around the crossroad. They were near the southern gate, but she wasn't sure which street.  
  
"If you're looking for the trouble, your highness, the scoundrels are down that way yonder," a man called out, and pointed to the street to her left.  
  
"Thank you!" Amelia replied, and loosened her grip on the dual reins as she clucked her tongue. The mare didn't need the encouragement; she was already flighty from the high-speed departure, and the princess' own adrenaline rush.  
  
When she rounded a corner, coming into sight of the assembled soldiers and guards, Amelia realized that it wasn't anyone she expected.  
  
"Gravos! Jillas!" Amelia called out, slowing the mare to a trot as the guards parted to allow her admittance. "Stand down, everyone, it's okay!"  
  
"I told you she'd show up, boss!" she heard Jillas say, then he waved at her as she reined in the mare. "Hi, princess!"  
  
"You came to visit! Everyone, it's okay, I know them," Amelia told the guards, who still didn't look happy about not getting a chance to throw them in a cell, especially Gravos. The big lizardman held a gleam in his remaining eye that was similar to Lina's just before casting a dil brand or a fireball. Amelia arrived in the nick of time. "It's good to see you! Come on, let's get you out of this weather, you must have been on the road for a long time. Is Miss Filia here?"  
  
"No, she ain't," Gravos said, still glaring at the guards. "But she sent ya a present."  
  
"Your highness, I protest! We must inspect the wagon to ensure this isn't a trap."  
  
"Nobody's looking in there!" Jillas snapped, baring his fangs, the jovial mood Amelia briefly glimpsed gone.  
  
Amelia sweatdropped. "It's okay," she assured the soldiers. "Did they have a royal seal with them?"  
  
The captain handed her a ring. "They had this on them. A clever fake if I say so myself."  
  
"It's not a fake," Amelia retorted, examining it. "It's my own signet ring I gave Miss Filia. Go back to your posts, all of you." She beckoned to Jillas and Gravos. "Follow me, let's go to the stables."  
  
"Your highness, are you certain this is wise?" the captain said.  
  
Amelia's patience was wearing thin. "Are you questioning the crown princess' judgment?"  
  
"N-no, your highness."  
  
"I didn't think so. Come along, you two." She wheeled the mare about and kept the reins tight, holding her back at a walk to stay alongside the ox. "This isn't the best time of year to be out traveling around in," she told them as they started back to the castle. The bay pranced in short, mincing steps, creating a slow, gentle trot. "This must be an important present."  
  
"It is." Gravos glanced at her over the ox's broad back, then turned his attention to the street.  
  
Amelia didn't like the gravity in his tone or expression, and glanced back to the cart, realizing for the first time smoke was trickling out of it. "Um...it's on fire?"  
  
"There's an oven in there," Jillas explained. "Oneesan invented it." Amelia shook her head in confusion, and he waved her off. "You'll understand once we get to a place that's safe."  
  
"And this'll probably be somethin' that you'll be thinkin' the less folks who know, the better, if ya get my meanin'," Gravos added.  
  
Amelia frowned, looking back at the cart, narrowing her eyes in thought. "This is big, isn't it?"  
  
"Oh, yeah."  
  


* * *

  
"So, that's what we did," Gravos said.  
  
"And here we are," added Jillas from his spot by the fireplace, tending to the Dragon egg in the braided basket.  
  
Amelia looked to her father. "Daddy?"  
  
Prince Philionel's normally grizzled face was even more intimidated with the thoughtful scowl settled on his features. He stroked his thick moustache with his thumb and forefinger, studying the egg. "Yes, princess?"  
  
With most people, it was her title. With her father, it was a term of endearment. "What should we do?"  
  
He didn't answer immediately. Amelia saw Jillas put his ears back nervously as her father stood, slowly crossing the room to stand by the egg. "It's not very just to separate a mother and child, and coming between a mother Dragon and a hatchling can be downright dangerous," Philionel said at last, studying the egg.  
  
"But we don't--" Jillas started to protest, then immediately shut up as the Crown Prince glanced in his direction.  
  
"But the priestess would have had to allow you to take the egg for you two to still be in one piece." He looked over at Gravos briefly. "Obviously, she fears for the child's life."  
  
"We just tol'ja that," Gravos complained.  
  
Philionel continued, undaunted. "We don't know everything that is going on, and the wrong move could betray her trust in us, in Seyruun itself! The only fair thing, the only just thing we can do is take this Dragon child in as one of own!" He smacked a meaty fist against his palm. "In the meantime, we shall continue with the quest for justice! We will send out scouts to search both high and low for this Valgaav--"  
  
"Daddy."  
  
"--and bring him in--"  
  
"Daddy!"  
  
"--on charges--"  
  
"DADDY!"  
  
"--of..._what_?"  
  
"We can't."  
  
"What do you mean, we can't? Can't is just a word! With justice, anything is possible!"  
  
"That's true, Daddy, but I also know Mister Xellos."  
  
"Xellos? That priest who saved my life against my addlebrained nephew's schemes?"  
  
"Yes, Daddy. That Xellos."  
  
"Good, good. He helped you against this Valgaav person, didn't he?"  
  
"Well, yes, but--"  
  
"We'll find him and--"  
  
"DADDY!"  
  
"What?" Philionel frowned in slight irritation at the constant interruptions.  
  
"Daddy, the Mazoku they're talking about, the one who Miss Filia's afraid will harm the baby, that's Mister Xellos."  
  
Philionel was quiet for a moment. "Xellos...is a Mazoku?"  
  
"A very, very powerful one, Daddy. The priest and general of the Beastmaster."  
  
He visibly twitched. "A Mazoku saved my life?"  
  
"Yes, Daddy."  
  
Another twitch. "And you've fought with him as an ally?"  
  
"Yes, Daddy."  
  
"WHERE DID I GO WRONG WITH YOU?" he wailed.  
  
Amelia rested her head in her hands. "You didn't, Daddy. The enemy of our enemy can be our friend, I learned that while traveling with Miss Lina. But we don't know what's happening here."  
  
Philionel made a disgruntled sound, and returned to his chair. "Well, what do you think we should do?"  
  
Amelia shook her head slowly, staring at the flames licking up the fireplace. "Mister Valgaav could very well have had a flashback and attacked Miss Filia. Mister Xellos could very well be protecting her, and even though they fought so much together while we were traveling, things seemed to be okay at the end with them. She even helped get him to safety when he was injured. But Mister Xellos really does hate Mister Valgaav. So even if Miss Filia's safe with Mister Xellos, the baby might not be. But we can't go around doing anything to advertise that we have the baby, or we won't be able to keep it safe."  
  
"What are you talking about? Of course we can," Philionel groused.  
  
"No, Daddy. Not with Mister Xellos. Maybe from other Mazoku, but he knows us too well. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. I learned that one too."  
  
Philionel looked at Amelia, and then to the egg. "So we're raising a Dragon."  
  
"It looks that way, Daddy."  
  
"Are you up to that? I've never raised a Dragon before either, but I know it's not easy."  
  
"I can do anything, just so long as justice is on my side."  
  
"That's my daughter."  
  
"Besides that," Jillas said, speaking up again, "we'll be here to help."  
  
"The fewer people who know about this Dragon, the better. I'll find you a nursemaid who's trustworthy, and the four of you can tend to the child."  
  
"Okay, Daddy." She looked to the egg. "Does anyone know how long before it hatches?"  
  
"Oneesan said sometime this spring." Jillas stood, and withdrew a narrow box from his bag. "She sent this too, for the hatchling."  
  
Amelia took the box and opened it. Carefully, she lifted the contents. It was a slender, braided hair necklace, the locks quite obviously belonging to Filia. Woven into the plaits halfway up the quill was a black feather; the tip pointed downward and to the side slightly, almost like a pendant of sorts.  
  
"It's her hair, and one of his feathers from his wings."  
  
She returned it to the box, laying it in carefully. "I'll be sure to give it to the baby when its old enough. Do we know if it's a boy or girl."  
  
"Neither."  
  
"Did Miss Filia ever suggest a name?"  
  
Jillas' expression was blank, and he looked to Gravos, who shook his head. "Not that we know about. I guess it's up to us to name it."  
  
"We'll wait until it hatches." Amelia looked to the egg. "In the meantime, I'll try to find something suitably appropriate."  
  
"And I'll make sure we have plenty of livestock for fresh meat come spring. Baby Dragons have an appetite like Lina's."  
  
Amelia looked to her father and sweatdropped. "This should be interesting, then."  
  


_to be continued..._

  



	13. Chapter 13

**Note to Readers:** I'd say something here, but I'm too busy cackling evilly to think clearly enough for a teaser or hint that won't be a spoiler. ^_^ But yes, the second part of this trilogy's about to come to a close; the proverbial Luke-tumbling-down-in-Bespin type of thing.  
~ Zanne  
  


**All Through the Night**  
Chapter Thirteen

  
  
Business was down to a dead crawl. There had only been one customer in the last week; the innkeeper needed some more tea. Filia wasn't too worried about the drop-off of clients. The howling wind and blinding, thick snow swirling outside in the blizzard would be daunting even for humans.  
  
All things considered, she wondered why she had been so uneasy. Her sources of stress and fear were all but gone, and over the three months since Jillas and Gravos left, an easy sort of routine and understanding had been forged with Xellos. She let him take over her life completely, and he saw to it that she wanted for nothing.  
  
A tray of tea to wake her each morning, measured out and ready to go, just add hot water? Check. A neck massage when she grew stiff from too many hours at the wheel or painting table? Check. Plenty of firewood, and never having to tend to the flames herself, or clean the hearth, or a variety of other chores? Check. He chose for her each day what she would wear, and anything she needed from the market, he was there and back again with the desired items before she could finish buttoning her coat.  
  
It was only while considering the effect the weather had on the absence of customers that Filia realized she hadn't left her home since before Jillas and Gravos' departure. Even the trips out back to the kiln and the pump had faded into a memory, although she didn't mind so much. It was bitterly cold, and Filia readily admitted that she might not have been able to endure the winter if not for Xellos' aid.  
  
She could live like this, she supposed. Maybe he had been right all along, and she had merely been too stubborn and set in her prejudiced ways to realize it. Even the nights when he would visit her were no longer a dreaded occurrence, endured out of sheer necessity. His touch, even though it sometimes hurt, never crossed over into the realm of unbearable. She complied, and he rewarded. It was always that simple.  
  
He couldn't be as evil as she was taught. Filia lulled herself into that belief, for anything else would drive her mad. He cared for her, even loved her. He had to. And in time, she would learn to love him.  
  
In time, she would learn to forget, and even the numbed ache inside would disappear.  
  
That was what she told herself, every minute of every day, until she started to believe it. It was so easy. Give up all she was, all her needs and wants, and in exchange, every need was met.  
  
All she needed was Xellos.  
  
Filia still worked, especially in her shop. She was never one to stay too idle, and he allowed her certain chores to occupy her time when he had no need of her.  
  
Since no customers were predicted anytime in the near future, it was a good chance as any to run an inventory and do a deeper cleaning of the corners and shelves which normally only saw a brush of a duster. With a tally of the merchandise on the floor complete, Filia took her clipboard into the back room. Once she knew how many sets of what she had, she'd know if she could pack some into storage, and have an idea of how much of a buffer she had to work with before her products were depleted.  
  
Filia climbed a short stool to reach the top shelf, and pulled down a large bowl. "What were you doing up there?" she muttered to herself as she inspected the pattern. "This goes with the rose trellis set."  
  
She stepped down and carried it out of the storeroom, and raised an eyebrow in surprise at a bundle of cloth nestled inside. "Huh." Filia set the bowl on the counter and reached inside, half-expecting something to leap out and bite her. The cloth unwrapped to reveal a black bowl, and Filia immediately started scanning the shop for the parent set.  
  
"There we are," she said in triumph, walking over to a full place setting she made, painted up with a glossy, elegant black. She started to set the bowl down with its mates, and truly looked at it for the first time.  
  
The simple black bowl, inlaid with a fine detail of gold paint, didn't belong to that set.  
  
It didn't belong to any set at all.  
  
Her heart thudded against her sternum with enough painful force that she thought something might break. She held it carefully, and tried to force a measure of steadiness into her trembling hands.  
  
Reflected in the glossy sheen to her mind's eye was the bowl's creation, as vivid as if it were yesterday. For all the months that had passed, she could still see him, every last detail. The way his aqua bangs parted and framed his face in a cowlick so similar to her own, the tawny scars that striped his face and his strong arms, arms that held her, hands that molded the very bowl she held under her own guidance.  
  
The gentle, the _safe_ passion in those hands, his lips...  
  
Their child.  
  
She hadn't forgotten. She thought she had buried it, and that it was all for the best. Buried alive, but buried nonetheless, and it would die in time.  
  
Sometimes they come back.  
  
Grief, remorse, rage, and a soul-shattering loneliness coiled together tightly around her heart, squeezing out a low moan as she pressed the cool, painted clay to her cheek. _Love, my mate..._  
  
"That might fetch a nice price."  
  
Filia jumped, screeching quietly in startled surprise as she turned around, and the bowl slipped from her fingers. She tried to catch it, but was too late.  
  
The sound of it shattering on the wooden floor was surreal, and echoed in her heart. She stared at the numerous small fragments numbly, trying to will time itself to be kind, to curl back to a point where she could have the bowl in her possession once more. Whole, unshattered.  
  
She tried to will back time to a point where her heart wasn't a mirror for the bowl's condition.  
  
"Oh dear," Xellos said cheerfully. "Well, you can always make another."  
  
Filia didn't look at him, didn't move, save to sink to her knees, ignoring a shard that was digging into her flesh. Her hands quaked as she picked up one of the bigger fragments. There was no way she could even attempt to piece it together again.  
  
Yes, she could make another.  
  
But she couldn't make another with Valgaav. Not the way the shattered one had been made.  
  
Agony wrenched at her insides violently enough that Filia wished it could kill her. It was blinding and breath-robbing and paralyzing. No matter how hard she worked to try and persuade herself that she was getting over him, it was all a lie.  
  
"Miss Filia?"  
  
She tried to speak past the hot tears burning her face, but all that came out was a keening moan. It took several attempts before she could whimper out his name.  
  
Xellos crouched down beside her, moving to eye level. "It's just a bowl," he told her, his tone cheery but firm. "Hardly worth getting yourself all worked up over."  
  
"It's not the bowl..." Her words were garbled, tangled up in tears. "Go away. Please, _please_ go away. Please don't come back, _please_," she begged fervently, wailing. "I want him. I just want him back, please, I don't care about anything, just go away and let me have Valgaav back!" Her words twisted into shrieking, hysterical sobs. She clung to his cloak, staring at him, her vision impossibly blurred even though she had them opened wide. Desperation overrode reason, and she couldn't fathom the alternative. He had to agree. He _had_ to. "I'll beg, I'll do anything, just _please_! Let me have him back!"  
  
Xellos' face was impassive, his eyes open, regarding her calmly. Finally, he stood, pulling free from her grip. Her own breath strangled her as she choked and gasped on the tears, staring up at him with desperate hope.  
  
"No," Xellos said calmly.  
  
"Wha...why? Oh, Xellos, _please_!"  
  
"Mazoku are very powerful creatures, this is true." He adjusted his cloak, and casually flicked off a bit of lint. "However, the ability to resurrect the dead is quite beyond us."  
  
Filia stared at him, wheezing against the sob stuck in her throat. The world tilted on end violently, and it felt as though she might vomit. She did _not_ just hear that. She didn't. She couldn't. It _couldn't_ be true. It couldn't...  
  
With a shriek of rage made insane by grief, Filia lunged at him, clutching the broken shard in her hand like a weapon as she stabbed at his face. Everything around her faded to black, everything but him. Nothing else mattered.  
  
"You thrice-damned bastard!" she screamed, her body trying to transform. Even through her rage, she could feel something blocking it. She could feel him interfering with the magic, with the portal, preventing her from transforming into her more powerful body. So her breath weapons weren't an option, but...  
  
Filia kept trying to injure him through any means possible, stabbing and slashing at him, kicking and scratching, her voice trembling with a rage that surpassed all reason as she tried to recite the Chaotic Disintegrate spell.  
  
He warded off her attacks with as much casual disdain as one might brush away a fly, then seized her wrists painfully, locking her arms behind her, halting a necessary channel for her magic. Filia still struggled, kicking and snarling in rage, snapping at him, trying to bite him.  
  
Xellos seized her jaw tightly in his free hand, his other locked around her, gripping her wrists, pinning her body to his. "Filia!" he snapped, and gave her a quick shake. "Cease this behavior immediately!" The cold smile that formed on his lips made her scream in fury, resuming her struggles anew.   
  
"Unless you want me to go to Seyruun."  
  
As his words penetrated her fog, they hit true to their target, the maternal side of Filia, logic and reason. She stared at him, her attempts to kill him coming to a stop, and the fury left as fear moved in.  
  
"You..._Seyruun_?"  
  
"You thought you could presume to hide something from me, little Dragon?" he asked, smiling coldly. "I knew all about the child you carried even before you did."  
  
"No..."  
  
"I quite enjoyed watching your attempts to outwit me. Had I not paid attention, had I been a lesser sort, I daresay you may even have succeeded."  
  
A harsh sob of defeat tore at her throat, and she squeezed her eyes shut tightly, every last vestige of fight draining away.  
  
"I chose well, Miss Filia. I knew from the day we met that you were worthy of me. Your careful attempts at manipulation only served to prove that." He cupped her jaw, forcing her to look at him. Filia opened her eyes, unable to see more than a blur past her tears. "But the humans have a saying, one which you perhaps should have remembered. You cannot con a con man."  
  
"I hate you," she mumbled, closing her eyes as another sob wracked her body.  
  
"Of course you do." His tone was patronizing. "Need I remind you, Miss Filia, it was you who made the choices here?"  
  
She sniffled, narrowing her eyes as she looked at him. "What?"  
  
"You chose to get rid of that half-breed's things. You chose to take me as your mate."  
  
"I did not..."  
  
"Who made the first move?"  
  
"You tricked me..."  
  
"Do you really think that half-breed would have wanted you back if he knew what you'd become?"  
  
"And what have I become?" Her voice was strained, raw against her throat.  
  
"True love he spoke about, yet you proved yourself true by your race's standards."  
  
"No..."  
  
"You wanted me, Miss Filia. Even while you still carried his child, you wanted me." She didn't have to look at him to know that infuriating smirk was curling his lips.  
  
Then she felt as though she might become sick when she opened her mouth to protest...and realized she had no room with which to do so.  
  
"But that's a Golden's brand of true love, isn't it? As treacherous as your race's crimes, as duplicitous as a Mazoku. You would have made a fine one, Miss Filia, with your jolly song and dance."  
  
"Shut up..." she whispered.  
  
"Out of sight, out of mind, and you couldn't get rid of your child fast enough."  
  
"I was trying to protect it!" she shouted, her voice a harsh croak under the weight of the sobs.  
  
"From what? And why send it to Amelia? Why not his father? It might have been quite amusing to watch you explain that. If the child was in any danger, it wouldn't still be alive, not since I know where it is." He leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear. "Or, maybe you _were_ right. Maybe I would have killed your child if you tried to keep it, evidence of your disgusting alliance with that half-breed..."  
  
"Which is it, Xellos?" she whispered wearily, knowing his answer even before she asked.  
  
"Sore wa himitsu desu." Then he pulled away and she felt him scoop her up easily, as though she didn't weigh a thing. "Come now." His tone was back to normal, far too cheerful and too grating against the broken weights over her heart. "You're not well, Miss Filia. A bit of rest, a spot of tea, and we'll have you back to rights in no time."  
  
Why should she fight a moment longer? It was over, and he had won.  
  


* * *

  
"I declare, babies always seem to get themselves born at night, and stormy ones at that."  
  
"Amelia wasn't born during either," Philionel protested, then scratched the back of his head. "Her sister, on the other hand..."  
  
Amelia took a break from watching the egg to yawn and rub her eyes tiredly, then returned to her previous position with her elbow resting on the table as she listened to the nursemaid and her father. Every so often, it wobbled on its own with little pecking and scratching sounds from within, and that every-so was becoming more often with each passing hour.  
  
"Shouldn't we be boiling any water?"  
  
"Whatever for?" The nurse looked at the Crown Prince of Seyruun as if he'd grown another head, and put her hands on her generous hips. "Do you boil water when an egg hatches?"  
  
"Only if you're making stew!" Gravos piped up, earning him a dirty look from everyone except Amelia, who struggled to hold in a sleepy giggle. Fatigue and the fact that it reminded her all too much of Miss Lina or Mister Gourry made it a bit more amusing than it was in actuality.  
  
"Oh, that reminds me!" The loud, sudden sound of the nurse clapping her hands together made Amelia sit bolt upright in an adrenaline-fueled spurt of surprise, which was quickly swallowed up by another yawn. "We need a steak."  
  
"I could go for something to eat, now that you mention it," Philionel said.  
  
"You men!" The nurse shook her head. "It's for the baby."  
  
"I thought babies ate milk..."  
  
"Not Dragon babies." She looked to Jillas and Gravos. "One of you, get useful and run down to the kitchen and tell the cook we need a nice prime cut of tender beef, chopped into little morsels, and to not bother with cooking it."  
  
"I'll get it," Gravos said, pushing himself to his feet.  
  
"And if you try helping yourself to any samples, I'll give you what for!"  
  
Amelia bit back another giggle as Gravos gulped and nodded. "Yes, ma'am."  
  
The small clock in the room chimed three, and Amelia lay her head in her arms, giving in to a jaw-cracking yawn.  
  
"Now as for you, child, are you certain you want to do it this way?" the nurse asked, tapping Amelia's head to be sure she had her attention.  
  
"Hm? Oh, I can do it, Nurse Zeeki." Amelia rubbed her eyes and nodded. "Miss Filia sent the egg to me, it's my responsibility."  
  
"It'll be a big one, you know. That babe won't let anyone care for it but you for a while yet."  
  
"I can do it," Amelia said, not mentioning the fact that it would get her out of the normally required diplomatic functions. They'd help each other out. "How many Dragon babies have you taken care of?"  
  
"None, actually," Nurse Zeeki said, her tone brisk. "I knew some people who had a Black when I was a girl, and this is what they told me. But whether it has skin, feathers, or fur, or even scales, a baby is a baby is a baby. And those are _my_ business."  
  
"How much longer do you think it will be?" Amelia asked, fighting down another yawn.  
  
"Well, if this is anything like a baby chick or duckling hatching, I'd judge by those cracks it'll be within the hour now." Nurse Zeeki studied Amelia and clucked her tongue. "You should've slept when I told you to."  
  
"I'll be fine." Amelia reached for the teapot, only to find it empty. "I just need more tea."  
  
"I'll make it," Jillas offered. "I know how oneesan liked it when she didn't get enough sleep, strong enough to curl your hair."  
  
The pot of tea was emptied, Amelia was on an artificially-induced bout of awareness, and the early spring storm had worn out its fury by the time chunks of the leathery-hard gray and green speckled shell began to tear away under the force of tiny little black talons.  
  
"Hey, I can see 'im!" Gravos called out, looming over the table as he studied the egg. "There, Lord Valgaav's baby."  
  
"And oneesan's! Don't forget oneesan!" Jillas tried to get a good view, planting a foot on Amelia's chair by her leg to hoist himself up to see over Gravos' shoulder.  
  
"Back!" Nurse Zeeki ordered. "And that goes for you too!" She thrust a finger under Philionel's nose. "You three get over there in that corner, plant it and be quiet, am I clear?"  
  
Jillas was the first to reach the couch. "Yes, ma'am."  
  
"All right, child, it's about time. I'll be over there with them, and out of immediate sight. It's up to you now. You know what to do?"  
  
Amelia nodded. "I can handle it."  
  
"Good. You're going to be the first thing that baby sees, and there's no undoing it until it's old enough to understand. Last chance, now."  
  
"I'm ready," Amelia told her. "I know what I'm doing."  
  
"I'm just making sure. Remember, don't help with the hatching, they have to do it themselves." Nurse Zeeki walked away from the table, joining the three males, and shushed them into silence.  
  
For the next fifteen minutes, the only sound was the egg as the hard, leathery shell cracked and tore, and the scratching sound of little talons as they continued to work through the egg.  
  
A little snout with damp, black fur nosed through an opening, forcing it to get big enough for its head. Two blue eyes blinked up at Amelia, staring at her for all of five seconds before the Dragon started squalling at such at an ear-splitting pitch Amelia winced.  
  
"There, there, take it easy," she said, reaching out to try and console it. When her fingers touched its head to pet it, tiny jaws tried to clamp on. "Hey! Don't bite me!"  
  
The Dragon wailed louder, and the egg tumbled over onto its side as it flailed about, struggling through the shell. Finally it crawled free on shaky limbs, and attempted to sit up, only to fall over again, which prompted another bout of crying.  
  
"Shush now," Amelia said quietly, attempting to pick up the hatchling. It nuzzled close to her hands, its black fur starting to dry. She had to stand in order to lift it; the hatchling was just a bit heavier than the average newborn human baby, and a little longer, not counting the tail that coiled tightly around her wrist.  
  
The hatchling nuzzled closer to her, seemingly content to sleep until she tried offering it a bit of the steak the nurse had handy. Amelia yelped and jerked her hand back as the baby Dragon greedily snapped its tiny fangs onto it. "Oh, brother. He eats like Miss Lina."  
  
"All right, we can go over now," the nurse said, then added, "but don't crowd too close, and don't try to touch him unless you don't care to keep your fingers."  
  
"Isn't he just the most adorable thing you've ever seen?" Amelia asked, her fatigue forgotten as she continued to feed the hatchling.  
  
Nurse Zeeki made a startled sound as she inspected it. "I've never seen a Dragon with fur before, and feathers! What on earth is this?"  
  
"I think he's taking after his father," Amelia said.  
  
"Lord Valgaav is an Ancient Dragon," Jillas offered, starting to reach for the hatchling, only to get his hand jerked back by Gravos.  
  
"An Ancient? I've never heard of those."  
  
"Very few have," Amelia said softly. "His father's the last one."  
  
"He's got oneesan's eyes," Jillas pointed out.  
  
"I know, he's just adorable." Amelia sweatdropped as the hatchling gulped down another bite of steak, and started wailing for more. "Miss Filia's eyes, and apparently Miss Lina's appetite."  
  
"Well, a growin' Dragon needs his food," Gravos said.  
  
"What are we gonna name him?" Jillas asked.  
  
"I've been thinking about that," Amelia said, "and doing some research. His name is Von." She stroked the hatchling's head gently. "It means 'hope'. Right now, there's not enough of it. Maybe that will change."  
  


_to be continued..._

  



	14. Epilogue

**Note to Readers:** You guys rock beyond belief, especially for sticking by me through my dry stretch. Two down, one to go. There's also three short songfics that will work on a subplot thread. The first of the three will take place between ATTN and Dawn. And one last disclaimer: "All Through the Night" was written by Sir Harold Boulton, and used without permission. It has no actual connection with the title of the 'fic, outside of the name, but...  
~ Zanne  
  


**All Through the Night**  
Epilogue

  
  
It was a thorn in his side, one he wouldn't remove. He hated and loved it at the same time. For every moment it twisted and galled him, it offered a flip side of reminding him of the freedom it gave.  
  
It glimmered in the shadows of the cave, half-buried under rocks, mocking him with every ray of light it caught.  
  
Valgaav lazily gnawed on a bit of cow, staring balefully at the barrette. He could destroy it, and perhaps escape having _her_ constantly lingering in his life and on his mind.  
  
But if he did that, he might forget why the barrette came to be there in the first place. He knew he could forget the questions, the things unanswered, and the answers given.  
  
_She wants you out of her life. My little Dragon has chosen me over you._  
  
He hated her for those words, hated her for that choice. She gave him back his life, only to turn away when it mattered the most...  
  
...or so he kept telling himself.  
  
But underneath it all, he didn't want to know. He didn't want to look. He didn't want to find out it was the truth, that she did make that choice. What then? Wasn't false hope better than none at all? He didn't want to find out that it wasn't, because what then? Once upon a time, he could have gone toe to toe with Xellos with a better than even chance of coming out on top, but now...  
  
More than anything else, he didn't want to know. He didn't want to find out that at the end of everything, it truly was for the best.  
  
What if he _was_ a danger to her, still a monster at heart, if not in body? And what if Xellos was the better choice between them?  
  
He knew he could forget the fear.  
  
So the barrette remained.  
  


* * *

  
Wearily, Amelia rubbed her eyes and stared up at the ceiling, barely visible in the dark, as she tried wake up enough to consider moving. The plaintive cooing across the room grew louder after she moved, and Amelia sighed heavily.  
  
"Shush, shush, I'm coming," she told the hatchling as she kicked off the blankets. His crying grew louder, and she pulled on a robe, walking over to the custom-built bassinet. "Shh, you should be sleeping. What's wrong?" she asked, keeping her tone low and soothing as she stroked the dark furred head. Von only cried louder, nuzzling against her palm and clutched the sleeve of her robe with his little, needle-sharp talons. "Are you hungry?" Amelia asked, looking around for the hourglass. "Food? Do you want food?"  
  
He clung tighter to her sleeve, and Amelia picked him out of the bassinet. Little talons hooked onto her robe, and the hatchling nestled closer, nuzzling under her chin and finally settled down.  
  
"Aw, is that it?" Amelia asked softly, walking over to the window as she stroked his back. "Are you lonely?" She leaned against the window frame, looking out over the courtyard below. The moon was bright, and reflected off the white spring blossoms on the trees below as if they were decorated with droplets of silver. It was still cool, but Amelia pushed the window out, letting the breeze carry in the springtime perfume she loved so much.  
  
The baby Dragon's wails had died down to a soft, rumbling purr, and Amelia sat on the window seat, tucking her feet under a pillow to keep them warm.  
  
"You're not the only one who's lonely," she whispered against Von's soft fur. "We both wish certain somebodies were here."  
  
He cooed quietly, snuggling closer to her as she petted him. Amelia rested her head against him, and began singing quietly, an old lullaby she could just barely remember hearing her own mother sing, like something from an almost-forgotten dream.  
  
"Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee, all through the night. Guardian angels God will send thee all through the night. Soft the drowsy hours are creeping, hill and vale in slumber sleeping; I my loved ones' watch am keeping all through the night."  
  
His purr softened to a low, barely audible buzz as the hatchling drifted back off into sleep. Amelia rested her head against the wall, lazily stroking his fur.  
  
"Angels watching, e'er around thee, all through the night. Midnight slumber close surround thee all through the night. Soft the drowsy hours are creeping, hill and vale in slumber sleeping; I my loved ones' watch am keeping all through the night."  
  
She yawned, giving up the efforts to keep her eyes open, and snuggled deep against the pillows on the window seat. The hatchling stirred a bit, grumbling in protest as she shifted position, then quickly settled down again.  
  
"While the moon her watch is keeping, all through the night; while the weary world is sleeping, all through the night," Amelia continued, reciting the old lullaby softly between yawns. The pauses in her cadence grew longer as she drifted back to sleep. "O'er thy spirit gently stealing, visions of delight revealing breathes a pure and holy feeling, all through..."  
  
  


**-= All Through the Night =-  
The End...  
...or is it?  
  
Will Valgaav ever get his memory back?  
Will Filia's sanity survive?  
Will Seyruun experience a famine once  
Von, Lina, and Gourry are all in the same place?  
  
Tune in to 'Then Came the Dawn' to find out!  
  
_Keep watch for the first installment of the  
Subplot Trilogy, 'Someone to Watch Over Me' soon!_**


End file.
